


A Crash Course In Love

by earne005



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:33:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earne005/pseuds/earne005
Summary: As I laid there, she was everywhere. Walking around the corner, standing by the bed, laying next to me. Her laugh echoed through the room. The heat of her breath still lingered on the back of my neck. Even her green eyes seemed to pierce through the smoke filled haze. She was everywhere, everywhere but really here.Clarke is trying to run away from her problems. She moves almost a thousand miles away to escape her demons, but they follow her all the same. Content spending the rest of her life staring through the bottom of a bottle, she meets a brunette who threatens to change the trajectory of her path.





	1. Intoxicated Ideas

**Prologue**

  
I spent quite a lot of time growing up day dreaming and romancing certain aspects of life. From the time I climbed up my first tree and surveyed the world around me, my mind ran rampant with ideas of exploration and beauty. Fantasies played out scenes of knights in their chain mail armor or of wizards armed with dangerous magic. They were all so entrancing that they grew roots, digging themselves deep into my brain.

  
Among the waving giants of pine, I couldn't help but lose myself in wonder. My blond hair boldly took flight. Naive blue eyes traced every strand of green to every shade of brown. At the top of my lungs, my lips loudly released a roar building up in my chest. "I proclaim this land in the name of Clarke Griffin!"

  
By the time my teenage years came, my desires changed into more of the typical, like getting into the college of my choice or moving out of my parents house. Sometimes I'd imagine packing my bags and leaving a note. My feet would try not to disturb the wooden floor boards as my shadowy figure crept out the front door in the middle of the night, disappearing like a ghost into the fog.

  
There was always that one prominent dream though, that one sound pervasive thought. It was cliche, but of course, all I ever really wanted was to fall in love, to find that heart stopping, breath taking, feet sweeping romance. I longed to find that form of expletive love written about, the kind that could save lost men or conquer nations if it had to.

  
After 26 years of searching for the illusive dream, my reward was a couple of fleeting relationships, but I never quite found that real gritty reciprocated love. For awhile, my convictions lead me to believe that in one relationship I had found the one. There was a sensation of comfort-ability and familiarity. He was my best friend. It just wasn't love. 

Sometimes my doubt came out to wonder if what I was looking for really existed at all. Maybe my head was just lost in the wispy adventures and whims of the clouds, and my misguided notions of love lead me to throw away something good, something realistic. My expectations were probably tainted by fluffy romance novels and the endless stream of sappy love songs.

  
The guilt from my decisions surfaced often. My inhibitions did there best to push it out of my brain, but those trains of thought came barreling though without invitation or even warning. Life kicked me in the ribs a few times. And as its shadow loomed over me ominously, it was hard to convince myself that any of the choices that lead my path here were right. I was probably just being cynical. Lately that tendency had been prevalent, but in my defense, it was for good reason.

**Chapter 1: Intoxicated Ideas**

My shaking arms picked myself up quickly out of the small snow drift that had just met my face first hand.

  
I was not eager to stick around and become acquaintances.

  
My eyes assessed the damage. The snow soaked through my sweatshirt pretending to be a winter coat and the knees of my denim jeans. Holding my hands out in front of me, my fingers that were buried in the cuffs of my sleeves trying to stave off the cold, were now cracked and small drops of blood oozed through tiny cuts. I attempted to catch myself, but as the cold air stung the new openings in my skin, I wished I hadn't.

  
"Fuck," I cursed under my breath watching the hot air being stolen out of my lungs by an invisible hand. Digging my balled up fingers back into my sleeves, I brushed off as much snow as I could before more melted. The wind already mocked me. It whispered insults, harshly laughing after every punchline.

  
On foot, I marched down highway 6 in a last ditch effort to clear my mind. Instead, all I managed was to strand myself a couple of miles out of the city, surrounded by the large Denver mountains while night had long since encroached.

  
It wasn't one of my finer moments.

  
The Jack Daniels that had played its part in my decision making now helped me cling onto any sensation of warmth. Thoughts of looking at my problems through the filter of the bottom of a bottle kept me pushing forward back into the city. It's where my motivation seemed to be stemming from a lot the last couple of months.

  
As the stubborn terrain struggled to impede my progress through the small snow banks on the side of the road, lonely eyes watched cars pass by. People whizzed by, heading home to their families and loved ones. My throat tried to swallow the rising bitter taste.

  
Watching a red SUV disappear around the bend, my feet started sliding out from under me. Desperately, I tried to regain my balance. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Plumes of fluffy white moisture launched upwards and then rained back down onto me. The snow found its way into all of the cracks in my clothing. Icy sensations burned into sensitive skin. Restraining myself, I bit my tongue sharply to stop from letting out an extremely long string of expletives.

  
Frantically, my limbs attempted to reset myself into a upright position. I buried my cold fingers into the snow behind me to try and help myself up. My feet danced on the ice, desperately searching for traction. As usual, any attempt was pointless. My ass fell back against the frozen December ground with a thud.

  
I was frustrated now. My hand rose to my face to proclaim it to the world. Instead, I grimaced. "Damn." My teeth clenched as my cold injured fingers grazed my cheek. The black eye and bruised cheek that had been awarded earlier today throbbed from contact.

  
I had forgotten it was even there.

  
For the moment, I had resided to forfeiting. The snow accepted my presence, quick to welcome me to its white prison. The moisture penetrated through my clothing with relative ease. Force of habit and frustration lit me a cigarette and put it to my cracked lips.

  
My eyes stared up at the dusky sky watching the trails of smoke dance in patterns away from me. The constellations floated above me. With practice, I mapped out the sky. Orion, Taurus, Gemini Canis Major, Lynx, they all held their place in the sky with grace. My young mind learned their names late at night when my father would take me up to the roof of the house in secret. When my mother would get stuck in surgery, he would wake me up with a thermostat of hot coco and share his awe of the universe. He always hoped he'd be alive long enough to see Betelgeuse go supernova.

  
I wish he could have seen it.

  
My perspective on time was lost, unconcerned with how long I had been laying there in the snow. My consciousness was only aware of the fact that it had been long enough for my mind to cycle through the same three thoughts what felt like hundreds of times. Cold and miserable, I laid there shivering. Damp blond hair stuck to my face as fresh snowflakes fell onto my cheeks and melted.

  
As my tormented mind allowed me to zone off staring into the brilliant amount of stars that swirled and glistened in the infinite space above me, I was caught off guard when the snow near me began to crunch mercilessly under the weight of an unknown presence. Startled, my body jumped. My first instinct was to dig my cool metal keys out of my pocket and lace them through my fingers like a pair of brass knuckles. My stare stayed focused on the road in anticipation. Narrowing my eyes, she slowly became distinguished from the dark background. Strands of long brown hair escaped her grey knitted hat and fell onto her cheeks. Her 5 foot 5 figure approached closer until she was standing over me.

  
With out a word, she extended her hand out for me to grab onto. After a brief pause of hesitation, I grabbed onto her wool mitten and was pulled out of my white cage. As my body regained its standing position, my eyes dared to look up from my shame. The reflection of the moon light was illuminating the stranger in front of me. Feeling my breath slip out of my lungs, I made eye contact with her for the first time. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her sweet smile accentuated her piercing eyes that even seemed to penetrate through the dark. Her thin but athletic figure stood there seeming to try and size me up as she sucked in her bottom lip and bit it.

  
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence. "You okay?"

  
"Yeah, I'm alright," I said glancing at the impression in the snow my body had left.

She looked at me for a moment longer tilting her head from one side to the other before her fingers ran along her jacket, unzipping her coat and taking it off. Waves of heat escaped from the grip of the fabric. She paused for a moment before hesitantly closing the distance remaining between us.

  
"Here," she said before hands lifted the piece of clothing up to my shoulders and draped the article of clothing around them. Surprised, I flinched. "You must be freezing." My body shivered in response, right on cue.

  
"I'm Clarke." My cold lips managed to stutter out as I fumbled to slip my frozen arms into the sleeves. Like a good restraining order, the coat shielded me from the wind that had stalked me down the road. Preheated, I relished in the warmth.

  
"Lexa," she said half smiling. Her eyes seemed to continue to scan me. "You want a ride?"

  
"You don't have to do that," I said too cold to brush away the hair hanging in front of my eyes. My body continued to betray me as it shook with more intensity.

  
"Well," she said before pausing and looking around, "I don't think I'd feel comfortable driving away and leaving you here alone." She leaned in close enough to zip up the jacket in one quick motion. Embarrassed for the situation she found me in, my vision darted back to my feet content staring at my soaked through black converses. My pride couldn't bare to return the intimidating strangers glances anymore.

  
"Yeah, thanks." I nodded my head as my hands rubbed themselves together in an attempt to generate more heat. This was not the outcome that had been expected when my ill conceived adventure began, but then again, it's not like I had an actual plan.

  
"Come on then," she prodded. My forehead could feel her eyes still lingering over me. Sighing in defeat, I let her lead the way out to the road. My feet lifted themselves out of the snow drift in an effort to reclaim their freedom. "This way." She directed me up to her car still running on the side of the road with her hazard lights flashing off into the distance. She led me over to the passenger door and opened it for me.

  
"Where to?" She asked as she climbed into the driver seat, strapping her seat belt across herself.

  
"Anywhere back in the city works for me."

  
"You look like you could use a drink," she said as if reading my mind. My head bobbed in agreement. The flask in my sweat shirt pocket had been dry for hours. "I was thinking about stopping at the bar if you want to join me," she said while adjusting the heat to point in my direction before pulling her car back onto the road.

  
"Yeah, that would be nice."

  
I'd never turn down a drink.

  
As we drove down the highway, my curiosity stole glances at her when she wasn't looking. My eyes desperately tried to keep themselves fixated on out the passenger window, but every time, they always gravitated back to her. She stayed focused on the road ahead, her stare unwavering, determined. She sat up straight, shoulders back, head high carrying herself with a graceful confidence. I, on the other hand, found myself slumped over, eyes darting anxiously, as my body almost seemed to try and fold in on itself in an attempt to hide from the world.

  
"So, what were you doing out there anyways?" She finally asked to the quiet stranger that was now sitting in her car next to her.

  
"Clearing my mind," I replied folding my fidgety hands politely in my lap.

  
"Well, did it work?" She asked.

  
"I guess." The car ride was much nicer than the bus that dropped me off near the edge of the city. Personal space apparently wasn't a universal concept.

  
"Well that's something at least," she replied amused.

  
Street lights started coming into view as we entered the city. Buildings began to pop up out of the darkness. We drove through the city for a little while in a peaceful silence before pulling into the parking lot of Highland Tap & Burger. If she had been looking at me, the night wouldn't have been enough to conceal the shock that spread across my face.

  
I came here every night.

  
She parked and shut off the car. The interior lights came on, vanishing any of the darkness that remained between us. She looked over at me and her eyes widened and her eyebrows raised. "Clarke?" She said motioning to what I'm sure were now traces of blue and purple streaks climbing up my cheek onto my swollen eye. My field of vision was focused on the green eyes staring back at me.

  
"It's nothing," I stated hastily as the heat of further shame rushed to my cheeks. She paused for a moment, her eyebrows contorted into a face I had seen far too often before, pity. The reaction had become all too common place recently.

  
There was a moment of silence. My heart beat threatened to drown out the heavy sigh escaping her lips. 

Then, she took me by surprise. Slowly, she turned her body towards me and pulled off her mittens. With a hand steady enough to be a surgeon, she brushed the stray blond hairs hanging over my wounded eye behind my ear in one smooth motion. Her touch was warm, tender. It seemed to linger on my skin even after it was gone, like small currents of electricity. The whole time, her eyes never left mine. Gently, she brought her fingers up to my cheek, careful to only touch the skin around the injured area. I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat. Warm skin traced small outlines on my cheek as she examined the extent of the damage for herself. My brain screamed at me to jerk away, but my treacherous body ignored me.

  
"You should get some ice for that," she said after a moment, pulling her hand away and taking her keys out of the ignition. For a moment, my body was left frozen, mesmerized. Shaking my head, I tried to pull it together.


	2. Taverns and Patrons

The refreshing warm air washed over me entering the familiar tavern. My nose filled with the pleasant smells of fried food and beer. It was Sunday night, and the Bronco's game had ended hours ago, but fans were still spread out across the bar. Orange and white jerseys were plastered across the room in large rowdy groups. Their grins spread ear to ear as they reminisced over last seasons Super Bowl win. Nostalgia flooded my senses like a bad cold.

I watched my home team earlier in my hotel room. The bottle in my hand shook itself at the screen in frustration as I yelled at the men on the screen. I bled purple and gold, but they always managed to fuck it up at the last minute. Disappointment was their signature play.

  
"Hey Lincoln," I greeted the bartender as we shuffled our way up to sit at the bar. After all the time I had spent here recently, Lincoln was the person that was most reoccurring in my daily routine. He seemed to be a decent guy. He was in his mid 20's. The shirts he wore always fought to contain the muscles in his arms and chest. With a shaved head and tattoos creeping up onto his neck and across his arms, he looked like trouble. Yet, his demeanor was kind and patient. Usually the man behind the counter at night, he had been picking up extra shifts so he could afford to get his girlfriend an engagement ring. He knew my order and allowed me the silence and space my reclusive ways desired from others. When necessary, he would even chase off guys that lingered around me too long.

  
"What is up Clarke?" He asked with a smile, pretending to ignore my black eye that would be added to my recent collection of mishaps.

I had come in with worse.

  
"Oh you know, same shit different day," I said plopping down onto my familiar seat. Lexa just looked at me raising an eyebrow inquisitively and took a seat next to me. This stool was almost certain to have the outline of my ass permanently imprinted onto it if my routine kept bringing me back here with such regularity.

  
"The usual?" he asked grabbing a bottle of BareBack Blond Ale out of the fridge before my mouth even had a chance to free the words.

  
I nodded my head in response.

  
I tried to contain my enthusiasm as the beer was set in front of me, but my shaking hand all too eagerly tipped the bottle upside down.

  
"Just going to ignore me Lincoln?" Lexa asked folding her arms with a smirk. Lincoln eyes widened when he turned around to see her until he broke out into a full blown grin.

  
"Lexa? What are you doing here? It's not Thursday yet." He stopped for a second with a look of suspicion creeping across his face. "Did Octavia send you?"

  
Lexa rolled her eyes at the man. "No, just here for a drink Lincoln."

  
"That's exactly what she'd tell you to say," he said grabbing Lexa a beer and flinging a bar towel over his shoulder. "If you do end up bumping into her, tell her I can't wait to see her tonight," he said before walking over to the other waiting customers. Lexa just shook her head at the man.

  
"Do you come here often?" She asked turning towards me after suspiciously observing my rapport with Lincoln.

  
"You could say that." Lincoln heard her question and was cracking a smile in the background. Though, the look that he received in return put him into retreat.

  
"My friends and I come here almost every Thursday night." She furrowed her brow in a look of concentration. Maybe she was wondering the same question that was being held at the forefront of my mind.

  
Had I seen this girl before? How could my vision be so impaired to not notice her?

  
The thought was beginning to drive me mad. Even a single brief memory would set my mind to ease, but everything was fuzzy.

  
"I can't believe I haven't seen you here," she said.

  
"I know the feeling." My fingers pressed against my skull in an attempt to try and force out the memory.

  
Nothing.

  
"I take it you know Lincoln," I said pointing the top of my bottle in his direction.

  
"Yeah, him and one of my friends have been dating for a few years now." She waved at Lincoln who had discerned we were talking about him. "He's a good guy."

"And a great bartender," I said taking a swig.

  
Lincoln walked within range of ear shot, and Lexa leaned in to ask him for a glass of ice. He nodded his head in understanding, and scooped a few frozen chunks into a cup.  
Lexa thanked him as he put it in front of her. She picked up few pieces of ice and wrapped them up in a napkin. "You really should ice that before you wake up and your eye is swollen shut," she said stuffing the object into my hand.

  
"I do like seeing out of both eyes," I said feeling a sheepish smile slowly creep up from the corner of my lips. I held it up to my face. It was cold but refreshing. My mind must have been too hopped up on endorphins previously to notice the heat that was radiating off of it with the intensity of a small sun.

My medical knowledge should have instructed me to take care of my injuries. But it would have taken effort on my part.

  
"So, how did that happen anyways?" She asked hesitantly motioning to my cheek. Her eyes studied my face. I didn't know what she was searching for in it, but her stare made me feel transparent. I stuffed one hand into my lap while the other clung onto my beer like a little girl with her teddy bear.

  
"There was a guy harassing a girl out in the parking lot of the Midtown Super 8 hotel I'm staying at," I said tapping my foot against the stool and running my hand through my damp hair. "He started pushing her around, while he screamed at her. Then she fell to the ground." My voice trailed off. The image of the scared woman falling tore at my chest. It had been more than my bleeding heart could bare. "Before I knew what I was doing, I ran over to where they were and tried to pull him off of her." My fingers lightly touched my cheek. "In return for my interference, I ended up with a face full of elbow. But the girl was able to get away from him." I finished and exhaled a very deep breath. My drink immediately went to my lips for a long swig.

  
No good deed goes unpunished.

  
"Why didn't you call the cops?" she asked clearly baffled why I thought I was equipped to physically deal with a fully grown man. My common sense understood completely where she was coming from. After everything that had fallen apart in my life, eating had become more of a second thought. Half of the time, my adventures to the bottom of a bottle would leave me forgetting until it was two days later and the lightheaded feeling began. As a consequence of reality, my frame was diminishing at slightly alarming rates. My appearance was threatening to no one, let alone to someone twice my size.

  
"It would have taken them too long to get there, and I've seen them out there before. She wouldn't have pressed charges," I said motioning at my now empty drink to Lincoln.

  
"That was dangerous." She said folding her arms and giving me a matter of fact look. She seemed impressed with my compassion for the woman, but clearly frustrated with my rationality.

  
"It is what it is," I stated despondently staring into my new beer before taking another long drink.

  
"What did the guy do after you intervened?" She asked. My mind flipped through its options, selecting which version it wanted to give her.

  
"He was displeased," I said hoping my vague answer would be acceptable. She didn't need to know the threat he had made to me. All too often my quick glances have caught her bottom lip firmly pressed between perfect white teeth.

  
"Are you going to be staying at that hotel for much longer?" She leaned in closer as if she was afraid to miss a single words.

  
"I just got into town about a month ago. My plan has just been to stay there until I found a more permanent residence." This was the most that had been explained to anyone here about my situation. It was kind of strange to be talking to someone else about my problems than just myself. "What about you?" I asked now desperate to talk about anything else. "What's your story?" My body fidgeted on the stool in an attempt to find any sort of comfort.

  
She sighed, clearly having had picked up on my uncomfortable body language, and allowed the topic to change. "I've lived in this area for most of my life. I left to go to college, but I felt home sick. So, I came back."

  
"I'm glad you did," I said. There was a decent chance I would still be in that snow bank if she hadn't come along. Part of me was still convinced that right now my frozen body was laying on the side of the highway hallucinating.

  
Lincoln came out of the back and I ordered another beer and two shots of Jack. My night was beginning its decent, like a snow ball down a hill.

  
"That's a lot of alcohol for such a little girl." Lexa poked at me. A smile played on her lips.

  
She had no idea.

  
"That's nothing," I said a little taken back by her familiar tone. I brushed it off and grabbed a shot. In one practiced motion, I tipped my head back and made the liquor disappear. "Do you want one?" I asked sliding the still full shot glass towards her.

  
She looked at the alcohol in front of her apprehensively with one eyebrow raised. Hesitantly, she lifted up the liquor and held it up in front of her face before she turned to me with a smile. "I'm going to regret this in the morning."

  
With that, she emptied the drink and winked at me. "Try and keep up little girl." She was unknowingly starting a battle she would never win.

I smiled ear to ear.

  
After a few hours of drinking and laughing with this girl, I started to feel a little human again. Her soft demeanor put me at ease. I easily managed to put away more alcohol than her with all of the practicing my liver had done lately, but she was getting drunk. That was for sure. Her words were coming out more slurred and fumbled as the clock ticked away.

  
With the couple of hours we spent there, we talked about a lot. She told me about her job as a physical therapist. She told me about her family and how her father and sister were both in the military. There was no eagerness from her to follow in their foot steps. We spoke about her friends, and how after her last relationship, she had lost faith in people and the idea of forever. I could have stayed there until our star ran out of fuel and expanded engulfing the earth in its fiery inferno.

  
Maybe, it was just the overpowering infatuation that overtakes me when I meet someone new that I don't instantly hate. My cynicism kept searching her, but there were no flaws to be found on this woman sitting less than a foot away from me. She was funny, smart, fit, confident, and mind numbingly gorgeous. She hadn't even looked at her phone since we got here. She made me feel like I was truly the entire focus of her attention. And the way she would smile at me, it felt like the room had been sucked of all of its oxygen. I had never been so happy to gasp for breath before.

  
"Still with me?" She asked tilting her head slightly. "What are you thinking about?"

  
"Nothing," I replied shaking my head.

  
"Fine, don't tell me then," she said trying to hold back her smile to pretend to look offended. It wasn't long though, before that smile escaped. "So where are you from anyways?"

  
"Midwest," I said glad I wasn't back there now in the dead of winter. This time of year, white dumped onto the town relentlessly. It was like somebody turned on an ice cream machine but forgot to shut it off. Temperatures plummeted to the single digits. Cigarette smokers cowered into small corners together to try and fend off the wind. The only thing people talked about at this time of year was how their cars wouldn't start and their pipes were frozen. Winter in Denver compared to back home, was a walk in the park.

  
"I picked up on that much Clarke," she said with a smart grin. "Every time you say 'Oh Yeah' or 'Oh you know', your accent comes out with a vengeance." She laughed and repeated the phrases, playfully mocking me. The ridiculous impression managed to sound palatable rolling off her tongue. "So, where are you from in the Midwest?"

  
"The cold part," I said laughing a little bit. "Minnesota actually." My clumsy arm tried to signal to Lincoln for another drink, but the motion came off sloppier than intended. "Shit," I cursed as my hand hit the glass of whiskey in front of me. The cup spun around and threatened to tip as the liquid sloshed to one side. But Lexa's reflexes were fast. She grabbed a hold of the glass before it had a chance to spill a single drop. Even while she was making her voyage to inebriation, she still had more grace than me in my fleeting moments of sobriety.

  
"I'm going to grab a smoke," I said embarrassed. Standing up suddenly, I grabbed the white and green Marlboro Menthol's pack out of my sweatshirt pocket. Placing a cigarette between my lips, I threw back on my almost dry clothing.

As my body turned around to head towards the exit, a warm hand wrapped around my wrist.

  
"I'll come with you," she said as I turned back around to face her. "I don't think it would be wise for me to drink anymore."

  
I nodded my head and finished off my glass with a swig.

  
I tried to hand her back her coat, but she put a hand up in refusal. "You can keep borrowing it. I have another one in my car, and your sweatshirt does not count as winter attire Clarke." I just shrugged my shoulders in response trying to conceal the chill that ran up my spine. The way she said my name was intoxicating.

  
Not having a winter coat didn't bother me at all. My body was used to shivering now that most of my personal insulation had been lost in the last couple of months. The only times I ever really felt warm were when I was drunk off my ass or after a couple of pills. My lips mumbled out a thank you to her, but part of me was resilient.

  
I didn't want to be her charity case.

 

  
"I am going to be hung over tomorrow." she said almost scolding herself as we burst back into the cool crisp winter air.

  
"I just call that being sober," I said half joking while my cold fingers grappled to light the Menthol that had been patiently waiting for me. Nothing tasted better than a cigarette after a beer. After a few attempts, I was rewarded. She shook her head at me giving me a look of, you know smoking kills right?

  
Looking at her watch, she turned to me. "I think I'm going to call for a ride."

  
It was midnight. She had told me she worked early tomorrow. She needed to sleep off the booze. "Alright." I shook my head and took a long drag. The orange ember grew brighter.

  
She took out her phone for the first time that night and made a call.

  
"Hey Raven, could you swing by and pick me up?" I heard her ask the person on the other end. Not really wanting to eavesdrop on the her conversation, I tried to occupy myself with the people drinking through the window, but it was impossible to block out. "No, I'm hanging out with someone at the bar." "Shut up Raven, it's not like that." "Okay, I'll see you in 10."

  
"Sorry about that," she said hanging up the phone and turning back to me.

  
"It's no problem." My fingers played with the lighter in my hand.

  
"My ride will be here soon, but I"ll give you my number and if you want. We could hang out again sometime." My fingers fumbled to retrieve my phone out of my pocket before I handed it out to her. One eye closed and watered as the cigarette resting between my lips ambushed it with smoke.

  
She made her way over to grab the phone when she stumbled a little bit. Instinctively, I went into action. My hand grabbed the bottom of her elbow to help her balance while my other arm stayed ready in case that wasn't enough.

  
"Easy there," I stated softly. Her commanding eyes looked to me with gratitude.

  
"Maybe next time we can meet somewhere besides a snow bank." Her voice came out at barely a whisper. The heat of her body piercing through the material on her arm reminded me that my hand was still there. I snapped out of it and pulled it back blinking a few times.

  
"There's always ice or water for next time," I joked putting my hand on the back of my head to try and brush aside my awkwardness.

  
A car pull into the parking lot and made its way next to us. The driver flashed their brights at us several times, before stopping parallel to us.

  
"Here I thought you were the responsible one!" A female voice yelled out a cracked window on the passenger side. Lexa just turned to the driver and gave her the finger.

  
"Well it was nice meeting you Clarke," she said giving me a warm smile while she handed my phone back to me.

  
"You too Lexa," I said grabbing the item awkwardly.

The door opened and closed and the car drove away. She was gone. I stood in the parking lot for a moment longer, before I put out the cigarette and headed back inside to finish what I had started.

 

 

My key card slid through the electronic device to open the door. The bar had closed for the night and the smells of the used hotel room were escaping out the opening. I stumbled into the room and fell over on the bed. My mouth inhaled and exhaled into the sheets until I could smell the liquor on my own breath. Despite the revelation, I clawed at the fabric until I could sit back up and grab a bottle out of the fridge.

 

 

Cool water poured over my skin welcoming me back to reality. My consciousness returned to find me curled up in the shower still in my bra and jeans. "Shit," I grumbled putting my hand to my face. My head pulsed with sharp bursts. Bruises and scrapes popped out in the lighting. They were strewn across my arms and torso. Others still remained hidden on my legs.

  
The downfall of almost always being drunk, I ran into things all the time. Most of the time, I didn't even remember it.

  
Sighing and turning the water off, I grabbed a towel and stumbled out still drunk. Florescent bulbs and a streaked reflection allowed me to examine my face for the first time since the altercation yesterday. Purple and black swirled around the bruised skin like an artist used it to mix their colors before applying it to their canvas. It looked bad, but if I hadn't put any ice on is last night, my eye would have been swollen shut by now. "Small miracles," I said quietly whispering to myself. Sighing, with one quick motion, my fingers returned the bathroom to darkness.

  
Going over to the end table, I took a pre rolled cylindrical joint out of the drawer. Florescent green and tiny orange hairs sprouted out of the end of the white paper. Crystals gleamed off of it advertising its quality. One of the benefits of living in Colorado, legal weed.

  
I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV to drown out the relentless silence that bled through the air as the clock flashed 4:00a.m. With the newly added sounds coming out of the electronic box, my back adjusted to rest on the headboard, trying to achieve a position of relaxation. My head laid back against the wooden frame, thankful for a moment of support. Lighting the end of the joint, I took a deep breath. The potent smell wafted across the room like the bass coming out of a stereo. My heart beat picked up pace. Euphoria washed over me like a much needed shower. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to focus and centralize the thoughts racing through my brain. As usual, my endeavors were unsuccessful.

  
In life, people felt a strong urge to collect sentimental things to mark their experiences. Some people gathered items and tokens, some compiled stamps in their passports, others assembled friends and families. I collected vices. My bad habits held lessons life taught me within reach. They were always eager to remind me of the foot that would be waiting to drop if my failures were repeated.

  
I sat and watched some random show about ice fishing for another half an hour after my joint had come and gone.

  
I picked up the coat, my cigarettes, and headed back into the Denver air.

  
My room was stationed on the second floor of the Midtown Super 8 hotel. The balcony was where most of my nights left me. Leaned up against the wall, my senses tuned themselves into the city around me. At this time of night, there was only the smell of grease and gasoline hanging in the air. Sirens ran down the streets, screaming into the night. Soon, the clanking and beeping of garbage trucks would be added to the indignant symphony.

  
While intoxicated, I liked to peer into the universe and hope that maybe there were different dimensions, different timelines. I had given up on achieving any aspirations in this reality. It was pointless to try. I had sunk so low, that rock bottom had considered adopting me as its new standard. Life itself kicked me down the street like an empty tin can.

Tonight had been a much needed break from my grim reality, but I had to face the facts. This moment of bliss was as always, temporary.


	3. Whiskey is a Solution

I stayed out there for awhile as people started coming in and out of their rooms. Cars exited the parking lot to reenter the real world, their real life's. The hotel had a lot of traffic. Most people only stayed a couple of nights for business, or through the weekend for their vacations. I, along with a few others there, had made this place my temporary home.

  
Once back inside my hotel room, the heat threatened to lull me to sleep. But my eyes manged to stay open for a few more hours. Whether through sheer stubbornness or desperation, they fought the remaining serotonin in my brain.

Due to recent events, sleep had become the enemy. Dreams from my youth had somehow morphed into nightmares, monstrous creations bred to go bump in the night. Terrors lurked around the corner, in the closet, under my bed. They waited all day long for their chance.

If they were patient enough, they'd get their shot. They always did.

  
I went over to the end table drawer and grabbed out my notebook. My time these days was mostly spent doodling in it. Drawing was my last outlet to try and find any remaining beauty left in this world. Life's ever changing landscape mercilessly smothered the same creations it had previously given breath. Where hoped dared to venture, tragedy soon followed. The pictures attempted to capture a moment, trying to preserve it for an eternity.

  
My frustration was building as my head bobbed towards the paper for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. The notebook cover swung shut. Vigorously, my hands rubbed my eyes and a groan escaped my lips. I couldn't take it any longer. 

I gave up.

Most of my cloths found their way to the floor before my exhausted form climbed under the covers. Closing my eyes, my hope was to comfortably enter and leave REM sleep without any disturbances. This scenario of uninterrupted sleep though, was bleak at best.

  
**Sirens blared off into the surrounding neighborhoods. Red and blue lights dashed down the lonely streets racing to their destination. My heart was pounding so fast, it felt like it would rip itself out of my chest cavity and fall onto the ambulance floor. My body sent a chill up my spine, but my hands grew sweatier as they gripped onto the built in shelf behind me. Every second that passed grew more agonizing.**

**The only thing that could make it worse was actually knowing.**

  
**My throat tried to swallow the growing lump.**

  
**If we got there and it was him, my brain would never be able to unknow it. My eyes would never be able to unsee it. Fingernails dug so hard into my palms that they started to break skin.**

  
**The bus stopped in one sudden motion as it pulled up to the curb. My coworkers jumped out with the stretcher and were shouting out different things, but my current state couldn't decipher the words. It wasn't a recognizable language anymore.**

**As if going through the motions, my body propelled me out of the vehicle and in front of his brown apartment building that I stood in front of so many times before this.**

**But this wasn't like before. It would probably never be like before again.  
**

**Without another moment of hesitation, I ran.**

**My legs took off racing inside while my mind spectated as it hovered above me.**  
  
**I ran up the stairs and sprinted down the hallway. My body flew past apartment after apartment. People stood outside their homes blocking the hallways in their search for answers. My body cut through them without apology until I stood on the other side, the area they were all gathering towards.**

  
**My feet stopped as they reached his door. They carried me up here with ease, but as they reached the destination, they turned into cinder blocks. Weighing a ton, it was like somebody turned up the gravity. All the noise around me dissipated except for the galloping heart beat reverberating through my ears. The door was slightly ajar, and the smell. The smell was subtle, but it was there.  
**

**Feeling light headed, my hand reached out to grip the door frame. As I fought to regain my composure, my fellow EMTs caught up to me as they pushed through the crowd and forced the door open, rushing inside.**

  
**When the wooden object creaked all the way open, there he was. Like a broken dream, his body laid on the floor. My eyes scanned his limp body that had once held me close until they reached his head and the pool of blood around it. At that point, any sort of collection there was left in me was lost. My skin could feel the color leave it. Vomit rushed up through my mouth and rested in front of my feet. "Finn."**

  
"FUCK," I screamed jumping up back to life. Throwing off my blankets, I tried to cool my body that was now drenched in sweat, in regret. My mind could not get rid of this fucking memory. It followed me around like a ball and chain, sentencing me to relive the nightmare every time I closed my eyes. Standing up, my wild figure ripped open my fridge, grabbed a bottle of Jack crisp with a thin veil of perspiration, and went to the bathroom to shower.

  
Switching on the light, my attention was caught in the mirror. My usually blue eyes were dark, almost black. All of my misery looked back at me, even stealing from me my own reflection. My shrinking frame seemed to almost fade away into the tiled background.

  
The bottle in my hand tipped back until I choked on the burning liquid. I ripped off my remaining clothing and stepped into cool jets of water. It was cold, but the shock factor usually helped to distract my mind. The taste of salt coated my lips as the water passed across my face. Taking a deep breath, sorrow attempted to form in my eyes. My chin quivered and shook, but there would be no tears shed.

  
I was better than that.

  
"FUCK!" I squeezed my eyes shut and slammed my fist into the shower wall with as much force as my compromised figure could muster.

  
Immediately, I regretted the decision.

  
My body recoiled from the impact of the unforgiving solid surface like a crash test dummy being launched out of a car. "GOD DAMMIT." I cringed, clenching my jaw and shaking my hand wildly. The knuckle on my pinky was already beginning to turn red and swell.

  
Pulling the curtain aside just slightly, my hand was able to pick up the bottle left next to the side of the tub. Desperately, I tipped it back again, begging it to quiet the graphic images. The blood was everywhere. It stained his cream colored carpet and even the wall behind him. I tried not to look at his face. It was not my intention to remember him this way, but it was not enough to stop me. Even today when I look at old pictures of him, all the images have been replaced with his face from that night we got the call. My artistic skills tried over and over again to sketch his image the way I want to remember him, but the memory bled through the pages anyways.

A small sob managed to escape my lips despite my resilient dissent. They had checked for signs of life, but we all knew what this kind of injury meant.

  
My lungs choked on air. Taking a deep breath and counting to three, I desperately tried to calm myself down. Setting the bottle back in its original position, my mind focused on the task at hand, ending my shower in record time.

  
With a white towel wrapped around me, my eyes glanced at the time. It was about 3:21 p.m. The bar was open.

It took me maybe fifteen minutes at most to throw myself together enough to go out. I brushed my hair and put on a basic coat of make up. My appearance was the last thing on my mind.

  
I needed to get drunk.

  
Making my way to the door with only my keys and debit card in hard, my hands felt my pockets for my phone. My eyes shifted to where it laid on my bed resting on the undisturbed corner. Sauntering towards the phone, I picked it up and proceeded to go to my text. My hesitant fingers typed out a short message letting her know it was Clarke/Girl she met in a snow bank. With a slight moment of pause, I hit send on the message. Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I made my way to the bar.

  
  
It was about 7:00 p.m. when Lincoln told me I needed to take an easy. He tried to not meddle too much in my affairs, but he could tell that today was a bad day. Pacing myself was out of the question. I grunted back at him, ran my hand through my long curly hair and returned to the half empty glass of whiskey in my hand. Looking at my phone, there were no new messages.

I was not surprised.

  
  
At 9:30 p.m. Lincoln cut me off. My forehead rested on the bar top, laying in any remaining dignity I still possessed. My fingers tried to wipe around my eyes to fix the running mascara. It was only the second time he had cut me off since I had been coming here.

  
"Come on Lincoln," I said pleading with him. "I'm way too sober to go home." My balance was thrown off as my elbow slipped off the bar top.

  
"Sleep it off Clarke," he answered not even bothering to turn around to face me. "If you like I can call you a cab or I can give Lexa a call. I'm sure she'd be willing to give you a ride."

  
"No, no, no," I said shaking my head from side to side sloppily and waving my arms before hiccuping.

  
Yeah, I was wasted.

  
"My legs work just fine thank you."

  
"Suite yourself," he replied finally turning around to face me. He leaned into the bar and made sure to make direct eye contact while a sympathetic look was perched on his face. I hated that look. "Go home. Sleep it off." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  
Yeah, sleep, that was funny. That was what had gotten me into the mess in the first place today.

  
"Fine, I'm leaving Lincoln," I said swinging my legs around, hopping off the seat with as much grace as my body could still manage.

  
"Don't forget your phone," he shouted through the noise of the bar as my sloshed figure neared the exit. He held the device up in the air for me to see.

  
"Thanks." I mumbled grabbing it without looking at his face. It took me till I got outside to realize I had two texts.

  
"Hey, sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I had a lot of appointments scheduled today," she apologized through the text. "If you were serious about wanting to meet up again, my friends and I are going out to the bar Thursday night if you want to join our table." Sighing, I tried to drag the correct words out of my intoxicated brain to respond.

  
"Yeah that would be cool," I sent back, struggling to put my phone back in my pocket only to feel it go off again.

  
"I had fun last night." My eyes glanced at the text unsure of what to do with it.

  
"Me too."

  
"I don't think I've been that drunk in awhile."

  
"I tend to have that effect on people," I said almost tripping over my own feet as my clumsy fingers wrote out the message.

  
"You should fit right in with my friend, Raven."

  
"If you're looking for someone to show her up, I'm your girl." I cringed at my own cheesy words. Usually, I was able to play it cool with people. Most people didn't really interest me anymore to begin with, but with her it was different. Nothing my mind could think to say sounded right.

  
My memory tried to recall if this what being sixteen felt like.

  
"I'm looking forward to it. I'll see you Thursday at six."

  
"Sounds good." Of course I would be at the bar Thursday night. The bar may as well have started putting a reserved sign on my bar stool.

  
I was almost home at this point. My legs stumbled into the parking lot searching for the stairs to lead me up to my room. No matter how practiced or rehearsed certain daily movements were, it all went out the window when my state was this inebriated. Limbs zig zagged through the fresh snow, leaving only my tracks behind me. The only trick now, was to not pass out. I did not want a replay of yesterday so soon. After I made my way into my room, every wall supporting me along the way, my drunken stupor tipped me over onto my bed. My body falling clumsily onto the sheets, I curled into a comfortable position against the cool fabric.

  
My liquid friend had done its job. The vivid imagery from the nightmare turned into background noise. I was relieved for the moment being, but it would return. I ran almost a thousand miles away from home and the people and places I knew. Yet, the ghosts of my past still followed me.

  
Stretching out, my fingers pulled my notebook towards me. There were two faces in my mind right now. One face I tried to forget everyday. The other was a face that some how seemed to penetrate through the thick fog of guilt and despair that had been the forecast through the foreseeable future. Without another thought, my sketch book came alive with her image.


	4. The Sanctuary of Intoxication

I felt awkward. My self awareness didn't want to already be at the bar when they arrived, so for the first time since I came to Denver, I waited until 6:10. Beforehand, my liver had done a little bit of pre gaming, just enough to settle the nerves. The thoughts racing through my mind constantly questioned what the hell I was doing. It wasn't a good idea to get involved with other people. It would be so much easier, so much safer, to just turn around now and go home. Despite my hesitations, I went inside.

  
Entering, my eyes searched the busy bar for a familiar face in the crowd. Glancing at the bar, Lincoln's gaze lingered over me with a confused tension in his brow. He had never seen me not instantly come up and get a drink.

  
"Clarke." My head whipped around to the left. Scanning around me, I tried to find the source of its origins, hoping it was not just my mind playing tricks on me. "Over here." My body turned slightly to spot her. Lexa was sitting in the middle of the chaos at a table with two other people and one empty chair next to her.

  
"Hey." I waved back at her. Carefully, my body made its way through the packed venue and towards her area.

  
"How's it going little girl?" she asked pulling out a chair for me.

I was stuck with the nickname.

  
"Alright," I said trying to slide into the open seat with the upmost of grace. She looked as breath taking as the night before. She sat up straight, with perfect posture. Even her brown locks rolled onto her shoulders with confidence.

  
"These are my friends," she said in a raised voice. Music played in the background while groups of people talked loudly, packed in next to each other like on a city bus after 5p.m. "Octavia and Raven."

  
Raven was tall and thin. Her brown messy hair was up in a ponytail. The smell of oil lingered on her and managed to escape to the other side of the table. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she had a smile on her face that said she was better than everyone and she knew it.

  
Octavia, on the other hand, seemed more down to earth. Her build was athletic. Her body language was relaxed. But there was an intensity that radiated off of her with ferocity. Even her resting face was bred of intimidation.

  
"Hey." It was stupid and simple, but it was all I had for them.

  
"This is Clarke," Lexa stated after I failed to do so myself.

  
"Right, I'm Clarke." My lips forced a smile hoping it would induce some sense of normality back to the table.

  
"So you're the girl that Lexa found in the snow bank," Raven said. Judging from the empty beers around her, it looked like she had a head start.

  
"Raven," Lexa said shooting her a death glare. "Sorry Clarke, I was just trying to explain to them how we met." She seemed genuinely apologetic. Although, I couldn't blame her for being factual.

  
"It's no problem," I said assuring her before turning back to Raven. "Yup, I am thee snow bank girl," I said hoping that owning it would ease the tension.

  
"I wish I had thought of that," Raven said. "What a great way to try and meet new people." She leaned back in her chair arms folded with a smirk on her face.

  
"Yeah, not really my intent," I said feeling a strong desire for a drink as my fingers clenched, pretending to grip an imaginary bottle.

  
It wasn't as good as the real thing.

  
"So, Clarke." Octavia tried to chime in. "What brings you to Denver?"

  
"Change of scenery," I said looking around for the waitress.

  
"Trading in all of those corn fields?" Raven asked.

  
"Bluffs and a river too," I said with a faint smile.

  
Glancing up from my fidgety hand, my eyes couldn't believe my luck. Lincoln himself had come out from behind the bar with two beers in hand. The look on his face was apologetic. He probably felt bad for kicking me out last night. Though, I didn't blame him.

  
"Clarke," he said reaching our table. "Is my favorite regular abandoning me?" He laughed and set the alcohol down in front of me.

  
It was a decent start.

  
"Don't worry Lincoln, you can't get rid of me that easy," I said washing down my nerves with the cool refreshing taste. I slipped him a bill before he turned to Octavia, whispered something to her, and kissed her quickly before returning to his other thirsty patrons.

  
"Damn girl," Raven said never losing that cocky look on her face. "How many women have Lincoln whipped?" Her eyebrows raised playfully at Octavia. "You did a bang up job training him O."

  
Octavia just shrugged her shoulders in response while she seemed to ponder something.

  
"I think I remember you," Octavia said suddenly while a look of epiphany lit up her face. "Yeah, you're the girl my brother, Bellamy, tried hitting on two weeks ago." She pointed her finger at me in certainty. My mind traced back trying cycle through the men and their failed endeavors.

  
"Curly black hair?" She shook her head yes at me. I had been drunk as usual that night, but my memory recalled his persistence.

  
It didn't help him.

  
"He promises to keep trying if he sees you again," she said warning me.

  
"He's not really my type," I said cutting the volume of liquid in my bottle in half. All I felt for the men that approached me was a strong sense of apathy. Even one words responses were too much effort.

  
Raven looked like she was unable to contain herself after my last statement. "So then Clarke, what is your type?" She looked over at Lexa who was staring at her hands trying hard to ignore her.

  
"Oh you know," I said clearing my throat and trying to look serious, "I like someone who is strong, bold, someone who makes damn sure I won't forget their name." I paused and took a drink. "Someone like Jack Daniels."

  
Whiskey did sound good.

  
"I like you," Raven said taking a swig and turning to Lexa. "You have my seal of approval."

  
They tried to subtly grill me for awhile longer before Lexa finally stepped in to avert the conversation to more neutral territory, asking Raven how her new engineering project was going and asking Octavia how her clients were doing. Apparently, Octavia and Lexa worked together.

Lexa looked over every so often with a reassuring smile.

  
By ten, over half of the empty bottles on the table were mine. Yet, I couldn't seem to drink enough to feel comfortable. My feet shuffled and my fingers drummed the table. They had known each other apparently since middle school. I was the stranger standing outside looking in.

  
Raven and Octavia got up to go use the restroom together. My cheek could feel Lexa's stare digging into me.

  
"Sorry about Raven," Lexa said turning her body towards me.

  
"It's no problem," I said just content to have another minute alone with her. "I'm sure our meeting made for a good story." One side of my lips raised in an attempt at a smile.

  
"Yeah, feel free to call me anytime you accidentally strand yourself," she said putting her arm up to rest on the table and setting her face against it.

  
"Thanks." My face radiated a familiar heat. Mimicking her, my elbow moved to rest on the surface as well.

  
"So, are you home sick Clarke?" She asked me. Green eyes stared in mine.

  
"Sometimes," I said unsure how to answer the question. "I guess, I miss the morning glow coming up over the Mississippi. And the way the bluffs change from yellow, to orange, and then to red in the early fall," I paused vividly holding the autumn portrait in my mind. The smell of burning leaves washed around me, " it's gorgeous." It was like a time capsule had been dug up and the picture sat in front of me. Trains howled in the background as my memory transported me to familiar gravel roads.

  
"Maybe some day you'll have to show me," she said raising her eyebrows in suggestion. "What about your family? Do you miss them?"

  
Sighing, I moved my hands back to my lap and swallowed. "That's a long story."

  
Right as the words left my mouth, Octavia and Raven meandered through the thinning crowd back to the table. I excused myself to the bar.

  
"Line me up some shots Lincoln," I said leaning into the bar. He put the glasses out and filled them. My fingers tipped them back one by one in a quick successive motion until the last one was empty. Yet, it still didn't feel like enough.

It never did.

  
"Having a good time?" Lincoln asked picking the glasses up off the table.

  
"I am," I said honestly. "You're girlfriend is pretty." He tried to conceal the hint of red sprouting up onto his cheeks. "She seems cool. You picked a good one."

  
"I did," he said smiling and refilling the empty shot glasses.

  
He knew me so well.

  
"I feel bad crashing on your guys group though," I said as the words slipped out. My eyes zoned off into the bar top.

  
"Don't be so hard on yourself Clarke."

  
Someone had to be.

  
"Yeah, thanks Lincoln." I emptied the glasses again and shuffled back over and took my seat. The effect of the alcohol began to set in minutes later. My arms were wide open welcoming it. The conversation carried on easier. My mind slowed and failed to create more than a few thoughts at a time. I was cradled in the sanctuary of intoxication.

  
Midnight came and went, and the night began to draw to a close. Raven and Octavia hugged Lexa and waved goodbye to me before Octavia drove a tipsy Raven home.

  
Standing in the parking lot of the bar, I turned to say goodbye to Lexa. Warm arms wrapped themselves around my waist pulling me into an embrace. After the moment of surprise passed, I allowed myself to hold her back. My nose couldn't help but take in her sweet smell. It rang through my brain like a church bell. I resisted the urge to cling to her with a sense of desperation.

  
"Call me anytime Clarke," she whispered into my ear. My brain would never get enough of her saying my name. She pulled away and offered me a ride home. I turned her down. After that, I was unconvinced that my body would get out of her car. She let it slide and waved goodbye to me before she too left the bar.


	5. Leave the Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the trigger would be a good place to leave off for a couple of days. Happy holidays.

I wished I could say that the night made any difference. My mind was grateful for the break from its solitary confinement. My heart swelled from their generous gestures. It just wasn't enough.

  
When my desires attempted to replant themselves, nightmares soon arose to trample them. Like an unfortunate cub caught in the middle of a stampede, it was doomed from the start.

  
Lexa sent me a few text, but as my body laid on the hotel bed with my notebook and a bottle, I didn't have the nerve to respond. My fingers pushed ignore.

  
Best to stop while I was ahead.

  
The days lost track of themselves. Like a montage that wreaked of booze filtered through cigarette smoke while the bar stereo was stuck on repeat, my body went through the daily motions. My eyes closed occasionally, spilling forth nightmares. The whiskey in my hand infinitely re poured itself. The people in the background talked and talked, but they never spoke a word. I was a prisoner to my own existence. The cold thumb of the bottle kept me safely tucked underneath it.

  
**We floated in his speed boat in the middle of the river. Colorful lights lit up the dark sky and reflected off the calm water's surface. The fourth of July was here, and Finn surprised me with a romantic date. His eyes were soft and his tone playful when he brought up the proposition.**

  
**My body leaned back to rest one elbow on top of the seat while my eyes lingered over the exploding chemicals dancing and leaving trails high in the sky. The warm summer breeze lazily lifted strands of my blond hair into the air.**

  
**We had been out there for over an hour now, and his face grew more nervous by the minute. After it seemed like his anxiety had hit its peak, he sat down next to me and lovingly grabbed my hand and squeezed it. The other hand fidgeted in his lap. He let out a long exhale and cleared his throat.**

  
**"Clarke," he said seeming to stumble over the words he was trying to make come out of his mouth. "We've been together for three years now and I've never been so happy. You're amazing. You're funny, smart, and so damn sexy. I can't help but smile when I'm with you." He paused and licked his lips. "I can't image living with out you even for a moment." His body folded down onto one knee as his hand dug into his pocket and produced a small black box. "Clarke Griffin I love you. Will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?" The box opened to reveal an engagement ring echoing magnificent rays.**

  
"Clarke," a voice said. "Clarke." It was louder this time. "Jesus Clarke."

  
"What?" My eyelids pulled themselves apart. My shame peeled itself off the surface of the bar once more. Lincoln's judgement was waiting for me. Hazel eyes pinned me down.

  
"One more time Clarke," he warned pursing his lips and shaking his head. "If your head falls on this bar top one more time, I'm kicking you out."

  
"Linc-"

  
"No Clarke, save it." He crossed his arms. "I can't keep enabling you day after day after day. Do it again, and you're banned for a week." I waited for him to falter, show any sign of weakness.

It didn't come.

  
"You can save the speech next time," I said watching small bubbles form as I swirled the beer in my hand. "If you don't want me here, there are always other bars, other bartenders," It came out harsher than I intended, but the words couldn't be taken back now.

  
He opened his mouth, but shut it with out uttering a word and walked away. I didn't want to stick around for the fall out. Instead, I did what I did best, left.

  
In anger, my hands struck open the exit, pushing the door back in one loud swift motion. It was harder than I thought.

  
"Ouch, really?" a female voice came out from the other side. My eyes went wide and the pace of my heart quickened. That voice made me want to turn on my heels and hide.

Of course, it was Thursday.

  
"Sorry," I said mumbling and trying to get around her without her noticing me.

  
It was dumb. Of course she was going to see the person who had hit her with the door and then stumbled through the opening like somebody walking on stilts for the first time.

Grace had never been my forte.

  
A hand caught my arm and followed me back out into the cold. "Clarke?"

  
"Lexa." I tried to mimic sobriety by standing up straight with my hands plunged into the front of my jean pockets. I wanted to keep my responses short. She just gave me a similar expression to what I had received from Lincoln moments earlier.

I really wished people would stop giving me that look.

  
"I tried contacting you." Her usually confident demeanor abandoned her for a moment as her head tilted down.

  
"Sorry." It was all my brain had, but it meant it. I was sorry she ever had the misfortune of meeting me.

  
"You're drunk," she said. It was a statement not a question.

  
"This is why people usually come to the bar." I said through half closed eyes giving up my short answers. My slurring only further beat the dead horse.

  
She sighed. "Clarke, you nee-"

  
"Don't," I said cutting her short. My eyebrows pulled together and I gritted my teeth to stop my chin from quivering. "Let's not do this."

  
She didn't say anything. Her gaze just dug holes into the banks of snow piled up against the establishment.

  
"Here," I said taking off the coat and holding it out to her. Her sad eyes told me she understood the symbolism.

We were parting ways.

 

Reluctantly, she reached out and grabbed the item.

  
Pausing for only a second, my greed wanted one final image to preserve before I plunged back into anonymity. "I'm sorry, but I have to go," I said softly.

My goal was not to hurt her. But whatever this was, it had to make its final stop somewhere. It was best to do it sooner rather than later.

Those piercing green eyes seemed to plead with me, but I turned and walked away into the flurrying night, like a ghost into the fog.

 

Heading home, a single tear fell down my cheek, but it felt like hundreds.

  
My mind was lost in a daze while my legs carried me into the parking lot. The smell from the nearby dumpsters wafted rot into the air. The unrelenting gusts rampaged into the the snow covered trees, hoping to break them. Walking by the side of the hotel, my mind replayed the last conversation while it simultaneously tried to remind me it was for the best. My life couldn't have anything goo-

  
My train of thought was interrupted as my legs buckled and my body fell down to the cold hard sidewalk. With out apology, a hand had introduced my head to the side of the building. The rough wall scraped against my face like sand paper vigorously trying to smooth the rough edges of a wooden bird house. My hands were outstretched and ready to try and break my fall.

  
If this was life's way of reminding me of what I deserved, this just seemed over the top.

  
"Thought I warned you," a male voice said hovering above me pointing an accusatory finger. My head ached as my eyes struggled to make out the familiar figure through a squint.

  
"What?" Confusion racked my mind while my hands held my splitting head. Wetness seeped out onto my fingers from above my eyebrow.

The world was spinning.

  
"Don't play dumb bitch," he said. My mind recognized the voice then.

  
This was not an ideal situation.

  
"I'm not trying to bother you," I said putting my arm out in surrender to the man I had interfered with earlier in this parking lot. He hadn't really been around since my heroic but naive efforts freed the tormented girl. I hadn't thought about his threat in days.

His shaggy unkept hair started coming into view. My vision strained to focus further, now able to make out the creases in his forehead and his slanted eyebrows.

  
My hands pushed off of my knee trying to stand back up on my shaking legs. As a reward for regaining my ability to stand, my eyes watched but were too slow to respond to the fist slamming into my gut. The hit rippled through my abdomen in waves. My arms wrapped themselves around my stomach as I doubling over onto my knees coughing and wheezing. Pathetically, I squeaked for air. The friction of the sidewalk ate away into my skin with every muscle clenched.

  
"Little late." His fists were balled up, his eyes flickering with rage. Saliva spewed from his mouth every time he spoke. "I told you if I saw you around here again, I'd teach you a fucking lesson for sticking your nose in my business."

  
"Just let me get my stuff and go." I managed to choke out the request between gasps. He laughed deviously in response, taking a menacing step closer to me.

  
My hand reached into my pocket in search of my keys. Fumbling, I twisted them through my fingers. The air around us was sensitive to every movement. The hair on my arms stood straight up. My muscles tensed, coiled and ready strike. But as my body lunged out at him, he was ready.

  
In one swift motion, his hand grabbed me by the wrist throwing me back into the wall. My head bounced off it like a ping pong ball. Darkness threatened to overtake me as the edges of my vision faded, the ringing in my ears drowning out all other sounds. He bent my thumb until there was a snap and the keys fell out of my hand, falling to the ground with a hopeless clank. Pain screamed all the way to my brain.

  
"Fuck!" I let slip. My back sunk against the wall as my knees crumbled and caved. Everything was fuzzy. What was in color before, appeared now in streaks of black and white.

  
Fear flashed through my brain. I was trapped. My eyes scavenged for an exit. I wanted to call out for help. Instead, my shoulder felt the impact of the toe of his boot. It's attempts to shrink away didn't stop the other kick from contacting the same spot for the second time. By the third and fourth time, the kicks didn't discriminate.

  
"Stand up," he said throwing his arms up in the air before grabbing my wrist and yanking me back up to my feet like a rag doll. The fury playing out on his face burned with vengeance. My body rocked back in forth, fighting to keep my balance. The lights around us that once provided me sight, now seared my brain with every ray. My common sense knew the situation was bad, but it couldn't concede to him any satisfaction.

  
"That all you got?" I asked forcing myself to masochistically smirk at him though faded eyes. The vein on his forehead protruded outwards threatening to explode with every beat of his heart.

  
With blind rage, he struck out at me again, his fist plunging through the air. This time, my injured body was able to narrowly avoid the incoming hit. Sloppily, my feet carried me out his strikes range. My foot aimed for between his thighs, seizing my opportunity, and connected with it hard.

  
His loud grunt echoed through the parking lot.

Without a moment of hesitation, I turned on my heels and ran. My eyes never dared to look behind me.

  
For the second time in my life, I ran like my life depended on it. My legs sprinted aimlessly into the night, racing along side my insatiable heart beat.

There destination to anywhere, nowhere.

My consciousness hovered above my body watching myself escape down the streets, past the buildings, past the establishments, past the homes dark in slumber. It watched from a safe distance, observing every rise and fall of my short labored breaths. My lungs burned and my thighs ached but my feet continued to pound relentlessly into the concrete.

Even though I knew there was no one still chasing me, I couldn't stop.

  
It wasn't until my body took me through a park and my shin found the side of a metal bench that I finally came to a halt. There was a flash of heat before a searing pain. My body flew into the snowy frozen ground in front of me, my form sprawled out in a heap of exhaustion. My arms attempted to pick myself back up, but the pain radiating from my ankle sent me back to the ground while my head swam in a bath of torment. I turned my head to the side as vomit burned all the way up through my throat and out onto the snow. The fuzziness at the edges of my vision reappeared and started to annex the rest of my sight. Panic gripped my chest.

  
Even in my compromised state, I knew this was bad.

  
Beaten and broken, my brain begged my phone to still be in my pocket. With my last bit of remaining energy, I pushed myself onto my back, dug out my phone, and dialed the only number I could think to call.

  
"Hello?" a voice said through the other end.

  
I tried to clear my throat before responding, but the cracking and shaking in it gave me away all the same. "Lexa," I said groaning into the phone.

  
"Clarke? What's wrong?" The loud ringing sound reverberating through my ear drums threatened to drown out her words.

  
"I, I can't walk," I said my teeth clenched. I tried to test rotating my ankle, but the second my attempts moved it in the slightest, it screamed back at me with anger. Having difficulty supporting its own weight anymore, my head fell backwards, burying itself into the snow. "I don't know where I am."

  
There was loud shuffling on the other end. "Are there any signs around you Clarke? Are you close to your hotel?"

  
My eyes tried to stay open long enough to scan my surroundings. The only objects my impaired vision could make out were trees, more trees, and a basketball hoop sticking out of the snow. "I'm in a park. I ran for awhile." I shook my head trying to stave off the black out. "I can't keep my eyes open Lexa." The metallic taste of blood built up in my mouth.

  
There was panic in her words. "Stay with me Clarke." My brain tried to stay on, but as my eyes flickered open one more time, I feared it would be the last.

  
"Lexa, I-" It was the last thing that came out of my mouth before it all went black.


	6. I Need a Drink

Beep. Beep. Beep.

  
What the hell?

  
Beep. Beep. Beep.

  
My hand tried to search for my phone, trying to shut off my alarm. But I couldn't find it. Frantically, my eyes pried themselves open, straining to adjust to the bright white light around me. The searing glow skewered my brain like a poker heated up in flames until it's edges turned orange.

  
Beep. Beep. Beep.

  
"What the hell?" The words left my mouth this time. Monitors sat all around me flashing familiar numbers and symbols. Looking around, my brain finally grasped the concept that I was laying in a hospital bed. "Fuck." My head pressed back against the pillow. Fuzzy images tried to remind me of why I was here. The aching throughout my body filled in the gaps where my mind refused.

  
"Clarke?" I hadn't noticed the beautiful sleeping woman sitting in a chair against the wall. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tried to straighten up her wrinkled clothing. It looked like she had been there for awhile. A twinge of guilt racked through me.

  
I shouldn't have called her.

  
"Lexa?" My groggy body attempted to sit up, until I noticed my right arm was in a sling strapped tightly to my chest while its wrist and thumb were bundled up in a cast running up to my elbow.

  
I needed a drink.

  
"Careful," she said getting up to her feet quickly and making her way over to the bed. "Do you remember anything about last night?" She stood at the edge playing with the corner of the sheet. She was distraught, her usually strong demeanor crumbling in front of me like waves crashing and breaking on the shoreline.

  
"Some," I said running my good hand through my hair while trying to avoid the bandage above my eyebrow concealing what felt like several stitches. My bottom lip was puffy and sensitive. Running my tongue along it, the faint taste of blood still lingered. "How did you find me?"

  
"I called the police after you stopped responding." Her fleeting glances turned to agony every time her vision idled too long over me. "They searched every park near your place until they found you in Chaffee Park next to the basketball court."

  
"Oh." Trying to contract the muscles in my abdomen to help myself up, I cringed. My ribs danced with sensitivity. She put her arm behind me in assistance. My body heated up as the pain dug in deeper.

  
The needles and tubes nestled in my veins and the exhaustion settling into my bones told me I was on an opiate, but it didn't stop the pain from bleeding through with each attempted movement. It certainly didn't block out the thumping and banging ricocheting through my skull like a stray bullet.

  
 Lexa wrapped her hand around mine and squeezed lightly offering the best smile she could manage.

  
"You stayed?" Disbelief resonated through my eyes.

  
"Of course Clarke," she said sadly. The haunted look she gave me tore the beating organ in my chest in half.

  
"Why?" I had to know. I tried to lock eyes with her, but a middle aged man in white lab coat entered the room before she could answer.

  
"Clarke, it's good to see you're awake," he said sitting down at the computer and pulling up my file. "I'm Dr. Robinson." Lexa walked out of the room. My eyes followed her until she was out of view.

  
"How long have I been out?" I asked turning back to him.

  
He looked at his watch. "About 18 hours now." My eyes widened. That was more time than I had slept in the last two weeks combined. No wonder anxiety was starting to pulse through me like I grabbed an electric fence. Despite the help of the pain blocker in my system, my body pleaded with me to drown my veins in liquor. "Well Ms. Griffin, do you remember what happened?" He asked as he swiveled his chair over to engage me.

  
My mind tried to run through the events. There were small fragments intact here and there, but overall, it was broken and faded. It was like a VHS that had it's film ripped out and cut up. Some pieces were taken out completely, while others were rearranged and reassembled. The more my mind attempted to concentrate on the memories, the harder my brain pounded. "Some."

  
"What about head pain?" he asked scooting the chair across the floor until he was a foot away from me. "On a scale from 1 to 10."

  
"Five, I guess." The question irked me. There was no right answer. Pain was different to every person, unique like a thumb print. We all had a certain threshold, different experiences. It was all subjective, something that couldn't merely be calculated using a measurement system based on feelings.

  
"Do you feel tired, fatigued?" He asked starting to run random tests while he interrogated me.

  
"No more so than usual." My right hand tried to rub my face, but I was reminded of the difficulty of the movement the moment I attempted. My frustrations were building as my helplessness grew more apparent to me with each failed action.

  
I needed a drink.

  
He took off the blood pressure cuff and grabbed a flash light out of his coat pocket.

  
"I'm going to check you pupils," he said warning me.

  
My eyes still weren't prepared. "Shit!" My gaze fled from the screeching light, trying to blink away the remaining spots clinging to them.

  
"Light sensitivity is not uncommon after a concussion," he said turning off the flash light.

  
After that, I tuned out. All I ached for was to retreat to somewhere desolate and quiet with a bottle within arms reach.

  
He ran a few more exams and asked a few more questions before launching into the various fractures, sprains, strains, and tears. My left shoulder's acromioclavicular joint was fucked and would be stuck in a sling for several weeks. My wrist and thumb would be in a cast for awhile from the fractured scaphoid bone. The fall I had taken in the park had also broken my left shin's tibia bone leaving it in a splint until the swelling went down. My ears dissected all the words, but I couldn't of cared less. All I wanted to know was when the hell I was getting out of here.

  
"When you came into the E.R. we ran a blood alcohol assessment," he said glancing back at the computer. "There was still three times the legal limit in your system. Do you normally drink that much Ms. Griffin?"

  
My head shook back and forth as my gaze zoned into the white tiled floor. "No," I said lying through my teeth as a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead and my left hand shook.

  
"Okay," he said with a tone of disbelief. "Well, we want to run a few more tests before we discharge you."

  
"How soon can I get out of here?" I asked unable keep the words swept under my tongue any longer. There was little politeness left in my voice.

  
"We'd like to keep you here for observation through the night. Then we'll need you to come back in a week, so we can check on your recovery progress, examine your ankle, and get physical therapy started," he said finishing an entry in the computer file before leaning back and folding his arms. "You should have someone here tomorrow when you get released who you can stay with until you recover."

  
"Even if I don't, I should be able to manage shouldn't I?" I asked raising my arm not attached to my chest in the air, fully confident in my ability to take care of myself.

  
I had done a bang up job so far.

  
He gave me a skeptical look. "I certainly wouldn't advise it." My head shook at him in understanding, but my plans remained unaltered by his words.

  
"The nurse will be in to check on you shortly," he said taking off his glasses and wiping the lens. "I'll speak to you again tomorrow before you're discharged." He left the room as quickly as he came, leaving me with the consequences of my broken reality.

  
I really needed a drink.

  
I let out a loud exhale, as Lexa reentered the room.

  
I hadn't even seen her come back.

  
She stood there at the entrance, hesitant to cross it like the inside of the room was consumed in flames. I didn't know if she was upset with me, or just unsure of what to do next.

  
"So how did that go?" She asked.

  
"Well I finally get to truly embrace the hermit lifestyle," I joked trying to lighten the mood in the room. "This will just be my test run." It hurt me to see her this distraught, especially over me.

  
There was no reason for that.

  
After a moment, Lexa pushed herself off the frame and walked closer until she stood in the middle of the room and stopped. She bit her lip and stared past me.

  
"Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?"

  
"You don't have to do that," I said trying to pull myself closer to the top of the bed.

  
It was no easy task.

  
"That's not what I asked Clarke." Her face didn't change. She kept on the same determined expression.

There was an adamant look that hadn't been there since she found me in that snow bank.

  
"Can't ask you to do that either," I said fidgeting with my fingers.

  
"You're not asking." Her hands were folded behind her back, her stare unwavering. "It's a simple yes or no question."

  
My mind felt like I was being tested after walking away the other night. I deserved it, but my pride wasn't sure that this was a hurtle my stubbornness could jump. My legs leaped into the air, but only succeeded in knocking over the small metal fence and tumbling forward on the black track.

  
I opened my mouth, my tongue struggling to push the word yes out. It clung onto my teeth, holding on for dear life.

  
After a moment of looking at me expectantly, she started walking towards the door. My heart sunk.

  
"Lexa." She stopped, standing in the door frame. She wouldn't turn around. "Please." It was the best I could do. My hardheadedness couldn't bare to give up the last remaining piece of my dignity.

  
It was all I had left.

  
I think part of her understood that too, because she came back and pulled up a chair next to me with a heavy sigh.

   
My mind couldn't wrap itself around why she was here or why she stayed. I had nothing to offer her but baggage.

  
Despite that fact, she stayed all night. Sleep claimed her around 3 a.m. Even unconscious, having her here was nice. The nurse came in and out frequently, but it didn't seem to disturb her.

  
The drugs in my system pulled my eye lids closer through out the night, but my struggle to stay awake triumphed. The raging effects of alcohol withdrawal certainly helped with that.

  
Insomnia was a funny thing.

  
My body spent most of the night trying over and over again to adjust to a comfortable position. Bending my knees, changing sides, tossing my head from one side to the other, there was no winning. Sweat crept out of my pores as my stomach churned. My good hand continued to rub my face in an attempt to soothe my intolerable nerves.

  
When the morning finally came, I discovered how difficult the next month was going to be. Getting out of bed was a battle all in its own. My ego was quick to try and prove my ability to be independent, but the nursing staff wasn't having it.

  
All they saw was a little helpless girl, not the stubborn undeserving drunk that stared back at me in the mirror. If they knew, they'd let me suffer the fate my actions merited.

  
The tests went by agonizingly slow. After another thrilling conversation and assessment with Dr. Robinson, I was ready to be discharged. It was a good thing my insurance had been taking their payments out automatically every month out of the sum of money my father left me.

I wouldn't have remembered. My ambitions were more focused on my next drink than keeping track of my bills.

  
I sat in my room in a wheel chair with my prescriptions in hand waiting for the nurse.

  
No matter how much my voice raised protest, they wouldn't let me get out of that stupid chair until my body crossed the threshold of the front hospital door.

  
My mind played over how nice that first drink would taste. My fingers itched to be around the glass bottle. I had been cautioned against drinking because of my medication and concussion, but I knew where my loyalties stood.

  
"What's your next move Clarke?" Lexa asked standing by the doorway with her arms crossed.

  
"I haven't decided," I answered honestly. Whatever my next move was, I couldn't bring myself to go back to that hotel. The thought made my pulse race and my palms sweat.

  
"Can I give you a ride?"

  
My headed nodded up and down in response. "That would be amazing."

  
"Where do you want to go?"

  
"The bar," I said laughing. She scoffed loudly.

  
"Try again," she said without a moment of hesitation.

  
"The parking lot of the bar." I attempted at humor again trying to shrug my shoulders. She still wasn't laughing.

  
"Do you have any plans at all Clarke?" Her voice was as intense as her stare. "Do have any intent to take care of yourself?" She knew the answer to that question as well as I did.

  
I didn't.

  
"What do you want from me Lexa?"

  
"I want you to figure out where you're staying, how you're going to take care of yourself. I want you to figure out more than just your next drink." She spat out the last part. Her normally calm eyes were now brewing in turbulence.

  
"Why do you even care?" I leaned forward, ignoring the throbbing in my ribs, and made direct eye contact with her.

The question had been begging to be asked.

  
She let out a soft sigh and her body language softened. "I've seen a lot of people suffering from trauma and substance abuse in my line of work," she paused and licked her lips, "and in my family Clarke." The last part left her with a distant look in her eyes.

  
I just blinked at her.

  
"Since we've met I haven't seen you sober. Lincoln says you get black out drunk every day," she said uncrossing her arms. "And you seem to deliberately pull away from people who care about you."

  
She didn't know the half of it.

  
"I'm sorry," I said raising my arm. "But I'm not your problem. You don't owe me anything."

  
"You're right." Lexa moved closer to me until she was within inches. Her body lowered until she was at my eye level. My skin could feel the heat radiating off of her. "But here are your options right now. You can either sit in the hospital lobby until you figure out what you're doing." She paused for a moment to let me soak in the mental image. "Or, you can be reasonable. Let someone help you, and go back to my place until you can come up with a real plan."

  
While I pondered the notion, she didn't budge. Her gaze never left mine. We sat there in a moment that could have stretched into an eternity. Every breath taken echoed across the room drowning out the sounds of the machines and the foot steps of busy doctors and nurses.

  
"Fine." I threw in the towel. My head was swimming in narcotics while my body was openly revolting against me for the lack of alcohol in its system. I couldn't argue with her, let alone form a plan right now.

  
She tried to hold it back. None the less, a small smile escaped onto her lips.


	7. The Vanishing Bottle

Even getting into her car was a battle. I ensured her my body was fully capable of getting into her car by myself. She insisted anyways.

  
"Seriously?" I asked as she got into the driver side seat.

  
"Do you really want to fight me every step of the way?" She asked putting her hands up.

  
"It's a possibility I'm still seriously considering." She ignored me but still held a smirk on her face.

  
"Do you want to get anything from your hotel fir-"

  
"No." It came out too quick.

  
"Okay, we don't have to." My eyes stared out the passenger window. The back of my head could feel the sympathetic burden of her gaze. "I can get Raven to swing by and grab your stuff if you want."

I mulled it over for a moment before nodding my head yes.

  
Lexa made the call. Raven would be over later. I didn't know what was going on anymore.

  
When did strangers start getting so pushy?

  
We drove for a little while before we pulled up to a tan and red brick house only a couple of miles away from the bar. Voices of happy families carried through the wind while even tree branches seemed to shake politely at each other. It was a nice neighborhood.

  
It was not the kind of place I should be at.

  
Against my body's wishes, I quickly pried open the door and swung my uninjured foot over the threshold and hoisted myself up.

  
I would not be helpless. It wasn't in my nature.

  
"Clarke," she said reaching her hand out to try and stop me, but it was already too late.

  
"What?" I played dumb while balancing on one leg and holding back the cringe that longed to display across my features from the quick movement.

  
She just shook her head at me.

The crutch in the back seat found its way into my hand before the door slammed shut.

  
My persistent dissent towards the wheel chair finally convinced the hospital staff to give me a pair of crutches. I would only be able to use one, but it allowed me more mobility and independence than that damn chair, not to mention more dignity. They tried to talk me out of it, but after I threatened to just walk around on both of my legs, they caved.

  
Stubbornness was my area of expertise.

  
Once a couple of friends and I drove out near some ice shacks on the river. As we were messing around tossing a ball, my foot found its way into the water as my leg plunged through a hole cut in the ice. I ended up walking over half a mile during the winter without a shoe and a sock in a pair of jeans that had a soaked leg before they dragged me into the car. I did it just because my friend, Jasper, told me I couldn't.

  
Lexa was more wary and followed me closely towards the home having seen the extent of my lack of grace in the past.

  
"Hang on," I said stopping and leaning against the crutch. My hand fumbled through my sweatshirt pockets until it found what it was looking for. "Yes!" Victoriously, I held the pack of cigarettes up in the air before I took one out and put it between my lips.

  
"You're ridiculous," She said folding her arms.

"I usually only smoke when I drink," I said like it was a helpful sentiment.

  
We both knew it wasn't.

  
Lighting the tobacco, my lungs inhaled in delight. Nothing made that ash tray flavor taste better than a plate full of mounting stress.

  
She rolled her eyes at me.

  
"Here," she said taking off her coat and putting it around my shoulders as my body shook with each and every breath.

  
I could have turned shaking into an Olympic sport.

  
"Thanks." I blinked and stared into the ground.

  
We had come full circle.

  
After that, she left me to enjoy my vice.

  
The crisp air woke me up out of my narcotic induced state. It helped to cool and stop the beads of sweat rolling down the side of my face like rain drops hitting the window while driving down the road.

My mind tried to process everything that had just happened, but it was way too much to deal with. I didn't know what to do next. I didn't even know what I was doing here. My head rolled back and just stared up at the clouds above me.

When I finally went inside, my eyes scanned the new surroundings. Her house screamed someone responsible lived there. It was a nice home. Everything was kept neat and orderly. Even her bills and her regular mail had different places. Pictures of her family hung on the walls along with pictures of her friends. It wasn't like my hotel room where the floor had cloths strewn about next to a few empty bottles and the most personable item was my notebook.

She had her shit together.

I don't know how she did it, but even as my body yelled at me while my brain repeated images of the inside of the liquors store, she still managed to distract me and make me laugh. Nothing was more rewarding though, than being able to make her laugh in return. My ears would never get enough of it. 

She was hell bent on helping me with what she could.

She made me food despite the fact that we both knew I couldn't eat it. My body tried to politely take a few bites, but the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach revolted. 

  
After struggling for several minutes and listening to her let out a series of small laughs as she watched me stubbornly fail to change the bandages over my stitches, warm hands lit up my skin. My hand held up my shirt as her fingers redressed the cut on my back that I had received from being slammed into the wall. My head bobbed forward as my body reminded me to breath.

  
My frustration was building. It didn't help that my body felt the urge to melt every time she came close to me. My stomach even did one of those flips like dropping down the highest incline on a roller coaster.

  
Mixed messages were beginning to fill up my brain. My mind reminded me that it was a bad idea to let myself get closer to her, but my greed wanted to relish over every second.

Raven showed up a few hours later. She came up to the door and Lexa let her in. A familiar faced curly black haired man followed behind her.

  
"So what's going o-" Raven started to ask but stopped when she walked inside and saw me sitting there in an arm chair. Her mouth hung open.

  
"I must be stunning," I joked.

  
"Damn girl, what the hell happened?" Raven asked with eyes wide open.

  
"Picked a fight I couldn't win." It was true enough.

  
"It doesn't look like it was much of a fair fight," she said turning to Lexa for answers.

  
"Maybe next time someone should teach you how to fight first," the black haired man said with his hands firmly planted in his leather jacket pockets.

  
"Do I know you?" I asked the man trying to place him.

  
"We met a few weeks ago at the bar," he said with a cocky smile on his face strutting closer to me. "I never forget a pretty face."

  
"Ass hat!" Raven glared at him. "Does she look like you should be hitting on her? Maybe keep it in your pants for a minute." I was beginning to think instead of having Lincoln chase men away, I should of had Raven doing it. She was a pro.

  
"You must be Octavia's brother," I said finally putting two and two together.

"In the flesh, but most people just call me Bellamy," he said putting his hand out for me to shake. I just stared at it until he retracted it awkwardly.

  
"No game dude," Raven said while laughing at him.

  
He went and sat on the couch while Raven grilled Lexa for more details.

  
"The police are looking for the guy," Lexa said to Raven biting her lip. "They told me to have Clarke give them a call when she's feeling up to it."

  
"I hope he resists arrest," Raven said clenching her jaw.

  
"Yeah, that's why I asked you if you could swing by," Lexa said. "Clarke doesn't want to go back there, and I don't want to leave her alone like this."

  
"I'd be fine," I said chiming in to the people now talking about me like I wasn't there.

  
"Sure Clarke," Lexa said looking at me up and down before returning to her conversation. "Here's her key." She put the card into Raven's outstretched hand.

  
Lucky for me, the card hadn't been attached to my key set. My mind couldn't figure out why I had let those keys burn a hole in my pocket anymore anyways. I had no intent of going home to Minnesota.

  
"You want me to grab everything?" Raven asked raising an eyebrow. Lexa nodded her head.

I just hoped that meant she'd grab the last bottle in my fridge.

  
Lexa and Raven talked for a little while longer before they left.

  
The sound of Raven's engine roared to life.

  
I sat there and tapped my fingers against the arm of the chair. Anxiety was building like the pressure behind an unfit dam. I feared it would break free and spill out any second now. My own skin threatened to suffocate me. It trapped me inside my body. I wanted to get a running start and jump out of it. My hand tried to rub my face in frustration, but grazed the cut on my face and left my face throbbing.

  
"I'm sorry about all of this," I said. "I'll be out of your way here as soon as I can."

  
"Stay as long as you want Clarke," she said sitting down on the couch that Bellamy just left and flipping on the TV. "If you need help, all you have to do is ask for it."

  
She said it like it was easy, but expecting me to ask for help was like telling Superman to hold onto a rock of kyrptonite.

  
It was my weakness. I couldn't ask for what I didn't deserve.

 

Raven and Bellamy came back later with my faithful duffle bag stuffed to the point that the zipper bulged out and threatening to pop.

  
"Call me if you need any help," Raven told Lexa setting down a bag full of items and glancing at me from the corner of her eye before they left.

When Lexa went to sleep, my body laid out across the couch. I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling. My nerves were pulsing at this point. Eventually, the breaths coming through the door evened out into a sleep filled rhythm.

It was time. My desperation went in search through the bag looking to see if the bottle was in there.

  
My hand rifled through the bag faster and faster as the shape and feel of the bottle continued to elude me. Cloths and items began to find the surface of the floor as I did a thorough search. "Fuck," I said groaning and sitting back against the wall. My knees folded and my arm hugged them close to my body.

  
It wasn't there.

  
My nerves pulsed in my ears. Defeated, the items found their way back into the bag before my body laid back down on the couch trying to stifle the withdrawal symptoms.

  
My eyes didn't try to close, but eventually my exhausted body shut down for a few hours.

**"Hey dad," I said as I slid open the sliding glass door and gave him a big hug.**

  
**"Hey kiddo," he said hugging me back before helping me with the duffle bag in my hand.**

  
**Finn and I had been fighting a lot recently about stupid petty things. We had fought a a decent amount before he proposed to me, but ever since it had only gotten worse. He had expected a ring to fix all of our problems.**

  
**It didn't.**

  
**My dad's place was always my safe haven when loud arguments and accusatory fingers forced me out of my own home.**

  
**"What's for dinner?" I asked sitting down at the table.**

  
**"Burgers," he said with a small smile before taking a seat next to me. Usually at this point, he'd launch into some story about work or ask me how things were going, but the air around us felt different. The serious expression on his face confirmed it.**

  
**"Clarke," he said my name in a way that made my body tense.**

  
**"Dad," I said turning back to the man that raised me.**

  
**"I went to the doctor the other day," he said. He seemed upset, but kept doing his best to give me reassuring glances.**

  
**He was always more concerned about me than himself.**

  
**"They found something."**

  
**"Found what?" I asked not really knowing if I wanted my own question answered.**

  
**"They did a biopsy to confirm," he said coming out with it. "I have stomach cancer."**

  
**My eyes dampened but my jaw tensed to try and stall the tears.**

  
**"I'm going in for surgery in a few weeks."**

  
**"Dad."**

  
**"Everything's going to be fine kiddo."**

Eyelids fluttered open. Daylight flooded into them and burned like marshmallows roasted too close to an open flame.

  
Bright light was still not my friend.

  
My head pounded with a magnificent relentlessness. I licked my lips to try and stave off some of the cotton mouth creeping into my mouth from the pain pills.

  
Trying to keep my composure, it took my mind a moment to remember where I was.

Every time my eyes closed, I woke up somewhere different. It was becoming disorientating.

  
"Morning." My head jerked to her voice and immediately regretted it. Pain dug itself into my brain like a metal spike.

  
"Morning," I said watching the gorgeous woman making breakfast in the kitchen.

  
My mind reeled trying to figure out how I ended up here.

  
There was only one thing I was certain of. I was living in the twilight zone.


	8. Withdrawal

I spent most of the morning nursing the growing effects of withdrawal on the couch while my hand tried and failed to shield the incoming rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. My leg shifted restlessly. The pills and the concussion were dragging down my thoughts like a car slowly coming to a halt as its tires tried to squeal through the mud. Usually, I wouldn't mind this kind of intrusion, but there was one prominent thought that managed to bleed through the haze.

How much I needed a drink.

Usually when a thought would become too prevalent, my solution was to drown it in alcohol, but that self fulfilling prophecy had hit a rut.

When she came back from a jog and the sound of water cascading started coming through the bathroom door, my body painfully stood up for the first time in awhile and almost tipped over. "Fuck," I groaned. It felt like I may as well have been hit by a car. Holding back anymore unwarranted groans, my limbs struggled to fight reality.

When my body finally found my balance leaning on the crutch, my eyes were caught by a piece of mail on her counter top. My gazed traced over the letters.

"Lexa Woods," I said her name out loud realizing for the first time for everything I knew about this woman, I still didn't even know her last name. I was staying in her house, but that thought had escaped me. She knew mine at least from the hospital, but I hadn't bothered to ask for hers. "Lexa Woods," I repeated it one more time enjoying the feeling of it rolling off my tongue.

Usually, social media was pretty good about filling in those kinds of blanks, but my better judgement had shut down my Facebook and Instagram account before I left town. There were too many people from my past, too many faces associated with his. It only brought up old painful memories. Pictures of people going on vacations with their families and loved ones, it only reminded me of what I threw away.

It was for the best.

In life people came and went. There were moments and experiences shared, and then after the photo was taken, it was time to get off that ride and go on to the next. Some people left a fleeting feeling of happiness when there photos were looked at. Others left more lasting impressions. They left holes so deep, I found myself with a shovel in my hands and dirt streaked across my face desperately trying to fill them in with anything, everything.

Shaking my head, my mind tried to push away the thought before my body made its way outside for a cigarette with my sketch book. I sat outside on the concrete steps and took deep drags.

My mind was still struggling to shake the nightmare playing out in my head. I was just happy I hadn't woke up screaming.

That would have been a difficult one to explain.

How would I even begin to express to someone that life had taken me on a ride? That like a hooded figure, it stalked me to every new town, down every ally. There was no interaction it wouldn't fuck with, no meaningful moment it wouldn't tamper with. Anyone who dared to interfere with our toxic relationship would surely only be hurt.

Despite my better judgement, I just couldn't seem to pull myself away from her. Every time I tried, some how some way, I ended up staring into those green eyes. Every time I failed, it became more difficult to try again. My will power was sapped.

"Hey," Lexa said stepping out the front door with a look of relief on her face.

  
"I'm still here," I joked looking back down at the paper. My eyes wandered old drawings. Finn was in a lot of it. It was weird not to have looked at them for a few days.

  
"What is that?"

"Just doodles," I answered closing the book before she could see his image or even worse, hers. There was conversation I did not want. Without a second thought, my gluttony put the cigarette out on the ground and lit another one.

She let out a small laugh. "Is there anything you're not secretive about?"

"I like to eat candy for breakfast." I offered up information while a couple jogged by with their dog.

"That's deep Clarke," she joked.

"I'm also well known for my happy go lucky attitude and my inspirational quotes," I joked flicking the end of the cigarette and watching the ash get picked up and blown away by the wind.

  
She grinned before her features changed and a look of indecision displayed across her face as she watched a tremor travel through my hand.

"You know it's only going to get worse before it gets better," she said.

"I know," I responded holding onto the smoke in my lungs for just a little bit longer.

I was dreading it.

"If you want to stay, I can take a few days off of work if that would help," she said offering up the suggestion.

My mind knew the right response would be to turn her down, but I just nodded my head. My stomach was resisting the urge to spill stomach acid in my lap as it was. Traveling sounded exceedingly painful.

  
"You know Clarke," she said shoving her hands in her pocket and staring past me. "I thought the other night, when I ran into you at the bar, would be the last time I ever heard from you again."

  
My body stiffened.

  
She would have been right if it weren't for what happened next that night. My avoidance would have done what it always did recently, disappear. I would have packed my bags, changed hotels, and even bars.

  
It would have been the right thing to do.

  
"Yeah," I said zoning off into the landscape. How was I suppose to respond to that? "Sorry about all of that, all of this."

  
"Don't be sorry," she said wrapping her arms around herself trying to hold in the shivering. "Just let me at least be your friend."

I nodded my head. It was an easy thing to say, but it was more complicated than that. Letting people get close to me was something I had learned to actively avoid. With her, it was even more complex. Part of me wanted to run away as fast as my legs would carry me. While another part of me felt completely unsatisfied with the word 'friend' that hung in the air between us.

  
"One day you'll tell me all your secrets Clarke Griffin," she stated mysteriously before grabbing the half smoked cigarette between my fingers and putting it out on the ground. "Come on."

 

The next couple of days were sheer and utter agony. My eyes no longer stayed open due to an attempt to stave off memories. They kept themselves pried open because my body wouldn't let me sleep. My stomach hadn't let me eat anything in days without throwing it back up. No matter how many pills my throat swallowed, no matter how much weed my lungs inhaled, I couldn't get comfortable enough to stop the sweating or the tremors racing through my body.

My eyes stared up at the ceiling through slits as my lips fought to stop the groans from continuing to escape. Clenching my fist, I bit down on my knuckle in an attempt to exert some form of control over the overwhelming anxiety snapping off like solar flares releasing powerful gamma rays deep into space.

  
Like a dedicated addict, my brain raced through different ways to get a drink. It ran through several scenarios of trying to get to the bar or the liquor store, but each idea was more comical than the next. When getting from one side of the room to the other was a battle, going a couple of blocks was laughable. I even considered asking at Lexa at one point in a moment of weakness, but better judgement held the question back. I had a sneaking suspicion that would be the one request she would not help me with.

  
Finally, after all the options were exhausted, I gave up and tried to accept my fate.

  
We never once talked again about what was happening to me. We both knew what was going on. Instead, she helped in the little ways she could and offered soft words of comfort. It almost seemed like she had been through this before. She knew what was coming next better than I did.

  
She had Octavia covering her appointments for a few days while I suffered through the most painful effects of my addiction. Why she was putting her life on hold for me, I would never completely understand.

The worst of it came when we went to the police station after they called asking if I could come down and identify the man in a line up.

Color had already become a rare commodity in my complexion the last couple of days, but if it were possible, any remaining pigment was lost after we got there.

  
Everything was fine until I saw him. Standing there in front of the one sided glass window and seeing the man who had made good on his threat, it all became too real. Between the reality of the situation and the serious chemical imbalance in my system, my composure ran away from me when I needed it the most. My knees caved as the images of the one sided fight began to come back.

  
It took a familiar pair of hands on my shoulders to remind me of where I was.

  
"Clarke." Her calm voice tried to bring my consciousnesses back to this world.

  
My head turned to meet her eyes. Her hand extended out towards mine helping me back up. Her fingers laced through mine until it was over.

  
The cops were going to charge him with a 3rd degree assault charge. They were pretty confident he'd get the maximum of three years behind bars. My head nodded, but my mind had put up a vacancy sign. It left me with nothing but pieces of memories that began to come out of hiding to vandalize my thoughts.

  
The ride home was silent, but my brain wasn't. My hand gripped the side of the door like it was the last thing still tying me to this planet.

  
After we got back from the police station, my body curled up on the couch. My eyes glued themselves to a piece of carpet.

  
Rapidly, my lungs attempted to suck in breath after breath.

I couldn't get enough.

  
My muscles tensed as my body rocked back and forth.

  
The pieces of the VHS reassembled themselves until they played out the entire video on the inside of my skull. From every blow, to every terrified thought, it came back to me.

  
It rampaged through my brain like a hurricane climbing up onto the coast. The strong gust blew down my defenses. The water filled up my dams and levees until they blew apart and overran.

  
I broke.

  
My preparations weren't enough to combat the endless torrents.

  
My eyelids closed together tightly as my jaw clenched and my fingers gripped the fabric until my knuckles turned white.

  
This hadn't happened to me in awhile. The last time it had happened was after Finn's funeral. It had never happened in front of other people before, but I couldn't help it. Even though my brain begged my body to get a grip, all lines of communication had been disconnected.

  
It wasn't my name that brought me back to reality this time, but a pair of arms wrapping themselves around my waist as her body slid in behind mine.

  
"Deep breaths Clarke," she said pulling me closer into her. "It's okay." Her perfect body pressed itself into mine.

  
My eyes squeezed tighter as my lungs fought to regain any restraint.

The more pathetic whimpers that eluded my self control, the tighter her grip became. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't resist.

I didn't understand it.

There was something about her, something I just couldn't quite put my finger on. My brain tried to wrap itself around it, but it only came back drawing blanks.

Anyone who had been fortunate enough to stare into those deep green eyes would understand. They were vast oceans. If sailors attempted to make a voyage, they would surely be lost at sea.

When she smiled, she lit the world on fire.

And her body, from her beautiful long legs, to her smooth toned stomach, all the way up to her perfect hand sized breasts, she was a masterpiece. Leonardo da Vinci would have lost his breath.

But it was more than that. There was something else that was pulling me towards her like the tidal forces of gravitational waves after crossing the event horizon of a black hole. It was inescapable.

I just couldn't figure out what it was.


	9. Like Riding a Bike

After a week had gone by and Friday came back around, the physical symptoms began to ease off the gas and allowed me to coast more comfortably.

I almost felt like a different person. It was weird in those moments when the pills were wearing off my system. Looking through the lens of sobriety after spending so much time in a fog, it was disorientating. The air tasted different. The streets glistened with a different shine. Even the breeze that that blew around my skin apologized along the way. 

  
It was quite the feat to get back to a place where my vision wasn't always clouded by dark liquor even on the sunniest of days, but it wasn't my first attempt to make a change. There was a time before this that I had managed to put the bottle aside for a few days, but drinking was just like riding a bike. Once it became that ingrained it was second nature. It could be months or even years, but come back to that steel frame and rubber wheels, and muscle memory kicked in like it was all just yesterday.

  
I wondered if it would ever go away.

"Clarke," Lexa said grabbing her car keys off the counter top and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'm leaving for work. Raven will b-"

  
"I know," I said turning to face her. "She'll be over later to give me a ride to my doctor appointment." I finished the conversation that we had already had three times previous to this one.

  
It was cute to watch her worry. The way her brow would furrow when she concentrated on something serious, it was beyond endearing. Usually when people were this insistent in their concern it would become annoying. With her though, I wasn't sure there was anything she could do that I wouldn't find adorable. It made it hard to have serious conversations when all I wanted to do was let her have her way.

  
"Okay, okay," she said heading towards the door on her way back into work. "I'll see you tonight then." She ended the last part as more of a question.

  
"I will see you tonight," I assured her.

Even though it was the end of the week, Octavia had apparently been drowning at work. Like the true martyr Lexa was, she jumped back into the cold water without a second thought regardless of the fact that she had gotten as much sleep as I had the last couple of days. She put her people before herself without hesitation every time. I would always respect that about her.

  
She nodded her head before grabbing the door knob and turning around one last time. "Call if you need anything."

  
I gave her a smile as she left.

  
Things had been going good between us, too good. It was usually at this point that it was time for it to all blow up in my face.

  
I still hadn't ruled it out.

 

About an hour later, the vibrations of Raven's car let me know she pulled up into the driveway.

"How's is going girl?" Raven asked as my hand slammed the passenger door shut.

  
"Alright," I said finding the spot my eyes wanted to focus on through the window. A familiar awkwardness crept into the vehicle as my limbs shifted trying to find any sort of comfort.

I didn't know what Raven thought of me crashing at her friend's place. Hell, I still didn't even know what I thought about being there.

  
"Things are going good between you and Lexa?" Raven asked trying to pry for information as the car traveled down the road.

  
She was less than subtle.

  
"Things are good," I answered with out bothering to look over at her. I wasn't trying to be impolite, but my ability and range for small talk had been collecting dust on the shelf for the last couple of months, and I didn't have the energy to brush it off.

  
Though, as I should of guessed, she had no use for small talk.

  
"So what is your favorite thing to do?" "Do watch TV?" "Have you seen this show called the 100?" "What's your favorite part about Denver?" "What are your intentions with my friend?"

  
She spun off so many questions at once I didn't even know where to begin. The last question clung to my mind like the smell of smoke to the interior of a car.

"I guess drawing," I answered the first question figuring that drinking and trying to fathom Lexa weren't the best options to fill in that blank. "I do watch TV, and yes, I have seen the 100," I paused, "several times." "My favorite part of Denver would have to be the beautiful mountain terrain."

  
Raven's endless smirk grew deeper as the short car ride began to feel like it was stretching into a cross country road trip. "And."

  
"I," I stopped myself to collect my thoughts. My lips didn't want to stumble over the words. "I." I tried to start again, but there was no right answer my brain could come up with.

  
I didn't know what we were doing.

  
"I don't know," I said finally. It was the most honest answer I could come up with.

  
Raven's smirk paused for a moment as she seemed to wrestle with a thought. My mind tried to brace for the next onslaught of rapid fire questions, but they never came. After that the conversation moved onto less conflicting topics until we pulled up at the hospital.

  
It was pretty easy to see why Lexa liked Raven. The girl went into every situation mouth first, but she was witty and extremely loyal to the people she cared about. She had a way of growing on a person. She was growing on me.

The appointment was as thrilling as ever. Between the sick people coughing and sneezing flu season germs all over the lobby and the creeping smell that always wreaked of sterile chemicals, hospitals were my least favorite places to be at these days. The last couple of times I had been in one certainly didn't help matters. How my younger more naive version of myself had ever worked in a mini travel sized hospital where we wore bullet proof vests and dealt with stabbing and gun shot victims all night while keeping my cheery sense of optimism intact, I just couldn't figure out.

Dr. Robinson ran through another list of topic while he managed to peak over his circular rimmed glasses and give me as many condescending looks as he could while I insisted on the minimum set of requirements for my recovery. We had made it into a game. I'd see how many times I could make him choke on his words, and in return, he'd see how many ways he could contort his face into disapproval. It was entertaining, at least to me.

After a few more tests, replacing the splint for a hard cast on my ankle, and scheduling PT for Monday, we made our way back out to the car.

The idea hit me as the car door opened. It ran into the front of my brain like a semi truck who's driver was asleep at the wheel. It wasn't a smart thought. My brain actively scolded me for even considering it, but I did it anyways. Just in case, or at least that was what I told myself, but even I was having a hard time swallowing that one.

"Hey Raven," I said as we drove back to Lexa's house. "You wouldn't possibly be able to give me Bellamy's number would you?" It sounded so innocent. I could always sound so innocent when I needed to.

"Sure, why?" She asked handing me her phone.

"I just wanted to apologize for the other night when I blew him off," I said sealing the sales pitch. My ulterior motives remained hidden beneath every syllable. He was the only person my brain could think of who would hook me up without a second thought if a moment of desperation hit.

"Don't be too nice to him," she said laughing. "He could use his ego knocked down a peg occasionally." My head nodded while my eyes stared at the number as it saved to contacts.

Just in case.

We made it back to Lexa's house shortly after. As my body attempted to get out of the vehicle, Raven's parting words made me pause.

"Just don't hurt her Clarke," Raven said with a sad but protective tone. Guilt washed over me.

  
That was the last thing I ever wanted to do to her.

  
"The last person Lexa opened up to," Raven paused. "She didn't treat her the way she deserved."

  
"I have no intention of hurting her," I said assuring her. It was true. Whatever this was between us, I'd do anything in my power to make sure when it eventually ended like everything else in my life, she would be left unscathed.

  
It was the least I could do for her.

  
"I'm holding you to that Griffin," Raven said before she left.

I waved goodbye to Raven and went inside. The warm light of the early afternoon settled onto the furniture and the outside of my eyelids as the impact of the last week put me to sleep for the first time in days.

**My eyes scanned the room one last time.**

  
**I was exhausted. It felt like we had just spent the last couple of months trying to hold up this waning relationship. But the weight of the truth had become too much to bare, and as my arms gave out, it came crashing down all around us. I just couldn't live in the rubble anymore.  
**

  
**Satisfied I hadn't forgotten anything, I shuffled over to the kitchen table.**

  
**The room was completely still but my guilt managed to play out reenactments of former good times together on the walls hoping to keep me there. Although, it wouldn't be enough this time.**

  
**My lungs released a sigh as my gaze lingered over a picture of Finn and I sitting the wooden surface.**

  
**We used to be so happy, or maybe it was just my memory trying to trick me. It always did have a way of doing that.  
**

  
**Without another thought, my hands unfolded the note in my pocket and set it next to the picture. Like the ending of a sad song, the ring slipped off my finger as my hand set it down next to my parting words.**

  
**"I'm sorry Finn," I said whispering in to the empty room. "I hope you understand."**

  
**Last night's fight was the final straw.**

  
**It was the fourth one this week.**

  
**We argued about stupid little shit all the time, who drank the last pop, who left the cap off the tooth paste, who last did the dishes. We were both avoiding it, the inevitable conclusion. We weren't right for each other.**

  
**I wasn't sure what love was supposed to be like, but I could no longer convince myself that it was this.**

  
**As my hands picked up my bags and headed to the door, my mind reminded me it had to be like this.** **Every attempt to break up with him before this only lead to him convincing me to stay.**

  
**Sighing, my feet carried me out of the apartment complex. I wasn't just saying goodbye to a lover, my arm was waving goodbye to my best friend. There was no telling how long it would take him to forgive me for this, if he ever did at all.  
**

  
**My eyes glanced at the brown apartment building one last time.**

Eyelids pulled themselves apart. "My fault. My fault. My fault." It echoed through my brain like someone shouting into a tunnel. "My fault. My fault." I repeated the phrase until my teeth bit down painfully into my tongue. Fighting to take deep breaths, I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest.

  
I was the reason Finn was dead.

"Fuck." I bit down harder until the taste of blood entered my mouth. Quickly, my arm reached over to grab my phone.

  
My fault. My fault.

  
The words kept pouring into my mind until they started to overflow. My shaking fingers hit send on the message. My hands cradled my head trying to break free of the chain of thoughts my mind was spiraling down head first.

I knew my actions were the equivalent to playing with fire, but my fingers couldn't help but flick the lighter over and over again. It was incredible how some things could feel so good and yet so wrong all at the same time. Unfortunately, this wasn't the fun kind of wrong.

It was less than twenty minutes later that I sat outside on the front steps waiting for Bellamy to show up wondering if I was already breaking my promise to Raven.

"What's up Princess?" Bellamy asked as he strolled up to where I was sitting with a brown bag in hand.

"Not much," I said ignoring the nickname and trying to keep my breathing even as my heart raced through my chest. He handed me the bottle and sat down next to me. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said putting his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I was a little surprised you texted me."

"Yeah, I felt bad for the other night." That part was true. He really did seem like a nice guy once his arrogance was pulled back. Guilt crept into the pit of my stomach, but it was too late to go back now. Clenching the bottle tight, my head tilted back as the familiar liquid burned down my throat. Like poetry it danced across my synapses slowing down my thoughts.

It wasn't like growing up as a kid I ever looked in the mirror and told myself one day I wanted to grow up to be a lovely alcoholic. No, it wasn't what my aspirations had in mind, but this was where I was all the same.

We hung out for a little while just shooting the shit and taking pulls off the bottle. He seemed like he was quite the player, but if someone dug deep enough, there was one person in his life he truly cared about above everything else. Him and Octavia were close, and it showed in his face when he talked about her. In some ways he reminded me of Finn. In another life, I could see us being friends. 

He stopped drinking at one point so he could drive, but my liver kept going until the bottle was half empty and the mixture of pills and alcohol left the world spinning round and round.

A couple of hours later, my phone lit up and went off. I had a sloppy smile on my face that was wiped off the moment I realized it was from Lexa.

"You gotta go," I said stumbling and trying to pull myself up off the ground.

He nodded and ran his hand through his black curly hair. "See you later Clarke."

After he left, the rest of the bottle found its new home safely tucked away in my bag.

It was amazing how easy it was to fall back into old routines and habits. And there was nothing that compared to that first drink. The rush was incredible. But give it a few days and a couple of black outs later, and my arms were picking up that bike and riding it full speed down the road under the glow of the street lights. I told myself this wouldn't happen again, but that's what I said every time.

My body sat on the couch after my attempts had sought to cover up the smell. My mind went through how to act sober. Disappointment was something I regularly delivered to people, and I couldn't bare to watch it spread across her face. She didn't deserve it. I just needed to be convincing.


	10. Listerine and Whiskey

By the time she came home from work, my body was laid out on the couch watching TV. My hopes were if I limited my movements and tried not to open my mouth, I could pull this off. I wasn't sure whether it was my brain or the alcohol that came up with that plan, but it was all I had at the moment.

"How'd things go today?" She asked as she came into the house.

  
"Fine," I said mumbling into the couch in hopes it would be deceptive enough. Even my thoughts were slurring. My mouth tried to keep itself closed.

  
She didn't seem to notice and continued to shuffle around in the background. My foggy eyes zoned out on the screen in front of them.

  
The couch sunk as new weight was added to it. Lexa's body let out a groan as she settled in behind me.

It was something that had become ongoing since the day the panic attack surprised me. It was strange. Human contact had been on my list of things to actively avoid lately, but she broke every rule I made. And I wasn't about to complain.

  
"What are we watching?" She asked so close to my ear that my body shivered.

  
"I don't know," I said trying to snap out of it.

  
I didn't know if I could.

  
She let out a small laugh and grabbed the remote. "A show about making tree houses?" She asked rhetorically after reading the description.

  
"I guess," I shrugged.

  
She set the remote back down and tried to get comfortable as the space between us melted away. Lucky for me, most of her remaining questions could be summed up in a head nod.

I was going to pull this off.

Time lost track of itself. I wasn't sure whether we had been laying there for hours or minutes, but the room finally stopped spinning as my liver processed just enough alcohol to let me get off this endless carousel ride. But, that soon became the least of my concerns.

Between the proximity and the remainder of the cocktail of drugs raging through my system, the lingering pain was pushed to the back of my mind. The only thought that consumed my brain was how her chest would push deeper into my back every time she inhaled. I didn't want to be presumptuous. But she had to be aware, at least on some level, of the affect she was having on me when my breathing would hitch and Richter scale heart beats became normal. At one point, I swear I even heard her let out a small laugh.

Maybe it was just the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol.

My mind tried desperately to distract itself with anything, images of cats, what I wanted to sketch next, how good her cloths would look on the floor.

It was hopeless. The whiskey had set me on a path, and my brain refused to budge.

In the past, there were plenty of women I was attracted too, but growing up in a small town and then becoming invested in other relationships, that door had never really been opened. There were plenty of times in college at different parties that there were some drunk girls going around hellbent on making out with everybody, but that was about my extent. 

With Lexa though, she made me nervous, giddy. Everything I said had to come out just right, but it somehow seemed to instead come out blundered and rushed leaving my face feeling hot. She had this smile she'd give me, this smile that made everyone else in the world disappear, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to run.

I didn't quite get it. I was just certain I was losing my mind.

"Clarke," she said barley above a whisper as her hot breath hit the back of my neck.

  
My whole body lit up. I rolled over to face her. Her captivating green eyes were mere inches from mine. I lost myself in them, forever at sea floating in those oceans. She reached out and tucked a stray blond hair behind my ear. Her hand seemed to slowly pull itself away in an effort to linger longer. 

Maybe it wasn't just the alcohol.

  
I couldn't take it anymore. My inhibitions weren't thrown into the wind. They were launched out in a rocket.

  
I waved goodbye to them as they left planet earth.

  
Before I even had a chance to register what I was doing, my arm roughly snaked under her and flipped her flawless body underneath mine as my hungry eyes looked into hers just needing the slightest signal to give me the go ahead.

  
She let out a small breath of surprise before she swallowed and returned my gaze. She licked her lips daring me to close the deal.

  
I would not disappoint. 

  
Like a head on collision, my lips crashed into hers. She lit up my brain like a nuclear reactor. Her mouth was so soft and sweet. Fingers wound themselves through my hair as she tried to pull me in closer. It was everything I had imagined every time her teeth held her bottom lip captive. Pure, euphoric, perfect. She was perfect.

  
She let out a soft moan that vibrated through my body encouraging me on further.

I was all too eager to please.

  
Desperately, my hand trailed down her shirt until it found the edge and warm skin underneath. My fingers traced up her toned abdomen lingering over every inch of skin as the desire coursing through my veins kept my hand slowly creeping up further.

  
My tongue greedily ran along her strong bottom lip begging for entrance. A quiet whine let itself out of my mouth.

  
I needed her. I needed her now.

  
Her heart fluttered underneath me before she granted me access.

  
With the patience of a teenage boy, I plunged my tongue into the caverns of her mouth. It was better than an endless bottle. Deeper, I pressed her into the couch pleading for more. I needed more.

  
My mind was ready to lose itself in her.

  
Suddenly, the high ended. Her soft lips pulled away and the heat between us dissipated. She regained her composure so fast I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.

"Clarke," she said as I fought to cool my body. "Are you drunk?"

  
"No," I said lying and shaking my head. My mind was so clouded, it was having a hard time forming thoughts. Figuring out what had just happened seemed like it was just out of my grasp.

  
"You taste like Listerine and whiskey," she said knitting her eyebrows together and running her tongue across her lips to verify the taste.

  
"Come on Lexa." I tried to grab her arm but she retracted it and sat up.

  
"I can't do this Clarke," she said giving me a sad look and shaking her head. "Not like this."

  
My fingers ran through my hair. "Lexa I-" I stopped and changed my mind. "I'm going to go grab a smoke."

  
Before she could utter a word, my body headed outside to try and find some comfort and solace in the darkness. By the time the lighter flicked on and lit the end of the menthol, the front door was swinging open.

  
"Clarke," Lexa said storming in front of where I was sitting on the steps. "You don't get to just run away every time you don't want to talk about something."

  
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as my lungs exhaled large plumes of smoke. "Didn't realize I was running." She scowled. It was certainly not the look my intentions had been aiming for just moments earlier. "Yes please, let's talk about how you just rejected me. I've been dying to lower my self esteem."

  
"That's not fair Clarke and you know it," she said putting her hands on her hips and giving me a matter of fact look.

  
She was right, but my stubbornness wasn't willing to admit it. Not right now.

  
"It was just a few drinks," I said trying to justify myself.

  
I didn't know why I bothered.

  
It wasn't just a few drinks, and it would have been the whole bottle if she hadn't come home.

  
"I've been meaning to talk to you about this," she said sitting down next to me. "Have you thought about going to AA or something?"

  
I laughed. I couldn't help it. Giving myself up to a higher power? I was more willing to give myself up to her. "No." My head shook back and forth. "Not a chance in hell."

  
"Then what do you want Clarke?"

  
To fade away into the background.

  
"It doesn't matter," I said digging holes into the concrete with my eyes.

  
It's not like I wanted to slip. My mind berated me after every failure, but I couldn't help it. Even though the physical symptoms of withdrawal had started to settle, the reasons for drinking still existed. My brain begged me over and over again. It whispered sweet nothings into my consciousnesses spilling forth images of waterfalls cascading whiskey into endless streams.

  
My throat swallowed hoping to catch another glimpse of the familiar taste.

  
"Clarke," she said my name again like she knew it was a paralytic to me.

  
"I'm sorry," I said grumbling and putting out the cigarette. "I over stayed my welcome. I'll call a cab." My body peeled itself off the steps in an attempt to look for my phone.

  
Part of me had let myself stick around longer than I should have. There was still a chunk of me that wanted to be around people, to be around her.

  
But we don't always get what we want.

  
Her hand settled over mine pulling me back down to the ground next to her. Chills ran through my body like the first day we met. She didn't need to say anything. She had this way of saying so much with out uttering a word. One sad look was like the entire works of Homer's tragedies.

"I don't know what I'm suppose to do." It slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. My hand went to my forehead to try and offer some kind of assistance. "I'm not good at this."

"You need to get help Clarke," she said the obvious. I knew I needed help. There was just part of me, part of me that was convinced that this was the path my feet were fated to walk upon. This was what I deserved.

My head nodded and my jaw clenched. It was the right answer, just not the one I wanted to hear. Help sounded like such an innocent word until I needed it. Once life put me in a place where a hand was required to stand back up, it began to sound like telling a dirty joke around the holiday table with family. 

"I know someone," she said after I failed to respond. "Someone who my sister went to when she came back from a tour over seas." The distant look in her eyes returned. There was more to the story about her sister than she was telling me, but then again, it wasn't like I didn't have my own skeletons.

"A shrink?"

"Yeah Clarke, a therapist," she said sounding a little frustrated. Eventually that emotion was displayed by anyone who dealt with me. I was only surprised it took this long.

"I don't know about that," I said letting my stare linger on the ground. "I've made it this far just fine. I will be fin-" It was all I had time to get out before she adamantly rejected my answer.

"That's bullshit Clarke," she said swearing for the first time I had ever heard since we met. "And you know it." 

"I don't know what you mean," I said trying to deflect as best as my impaired mind could. My pathetic attempts were met by strong resistance.

"You don't know what I mean? You're terrified of even the possibility being happy." Her usually calm demeanor had become animated. She had my number and it made me livid. How could I let myself be so easy to read? How could I have let my defenses, the walls that were built so high and thick, fall so far?

"That's a bold statement from someone I hardly know." I spat back. It was harsh, but I was in a corner and running had been eliminated from my pool of options for the time being.

"Is that what this is?" She asked standing up. "I'm just some stranger to you still?"

"I didn't mean it li-"

"No, don't take it back now Clarke. Tell me what you really think. Is that all I am to you?"

I shook my head. "No." My hand ran through my hair desperately trying to regain control over this conversation, but it wasn't coming back to me. "It's not what I think of you."

"Then prove it," she said refusing to move her gaze from my eyes even though they were trying to look anywhere else, anywhere besides at her. "If you really care at all about me, about this, about yourself, get some help." It wasn't polite. It wasn't tactful, but it was honest. Brutally honest.

"Alright." It came out before I could even truly consider the extent of what it meant, but I wouldn't take it back. She was right. I knew she was, but admitting it left me with the urge to spit out blood. Ignorance catered so much more to the guilt that followed me around like a shadow. It had been there so long, I was wary of throwing it away.

Her arms folded and she gave me a serious look trying to figure out if I was being earnest. "If I set up an appointment you'll go?"

"I'll go."

"Good," she said before standing there a moment longer before turning around to go back into the house. "And Clarke." She turned around to face me. "I expect you to be sober the next time you kiss me."

My back leaned into the steps as another lit cigarette found its way to my lips. My gaze settled itself starring up at the night sky.

Yeah, I wasn't going to be able to sleep after that.


	11. Always Leave Them Wanting More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if anyone is a Packer fan.

Despite the fact that my ass might have been literally freezing itself off on the cold concrete steps, I stayed out there and watched the sun climb up over the terrain.

  
My mind was struggling to process everything. Between my bold move and the promise I had made to her, to myself, it felt like waking up after a black out and looking around wondering what the hell I had done. My intent was to put my best foot forward, but the fear in the back of my mind still hovered. When life had been eroded into nothing more than the next drink, it was hard to start seeing past that horizon.

My escapism had lead me down this winding trail of inebriation for several months now, but it may as well have been a lifetime. The connection was like two teenage best friends who stayed up all night and whispered their secrets into the dark. It was there for me any day, anytime.

  
There was one silver lining that eased my heavy mind. With about 95% certainty, I could almost guarantee that the word friend that had hung in the air between us before had now been torn down and dismantled the moment my lips crashed into hers.

It would not be missed.

When I finally worked up the nerve to go back inside, she was acting like last night was already in the rear view mirror.

"Really?" She asked as I came out in my Viking's jersey. It was one of my few possessions I still held dear. Changing in general with that stupid sling and the cast made it challenging, but as purple and gold lit up my peripheral vision, the persistence felt well worth it.

  
"Don't even go there," I said warning her with a menacing look.

  
"No, it's cute Clarke," she said laughing. "In like a super bowl ring less way." She smiled knowing she was only fueling the fire.

  
"I'm sorry I am committed to my team and refuse to bandwagon," I said trying to feign outrage.

  
Realistically she could talk trash all she wanted as long as she wasn't wearing green and gold. There was a bridge that couldn't be uncrossed. Especially not today when they were playing at Lambeau Field.

  
"Are you going to watch the game with me?" I asked stealing the remote and turning the channel. It would be the first time in a long time there was a game playing with out a beer being firmly gripped between my fingers. Beer and football went together like porch swings and sunsets.

  
"Do I get to root against you?"

  
"Not if you don't want me to push you off the couch." She smirked and sat down next to me.

  
"I'd like to see you try." Her eyebrows raised at me trying to egg me on. My throat swallowed.

"Careful, or I'll cheer for the Cheifs tomorrow," I joked earning a death glare.

  
"About that Clarke," she said hesitating momentarily, "I'm going over to my parent's house tomorrow for Christmas."

  
"Oh, right," I said feeling like an idiot for forgetting the date and the holiday that coincided. It should have been an obvious reminder given all the Christmas lights strung along roof tops and the pine trees that sat in view of most front window's, but it had all just become meaningless background noise.

  
Nothing was worse than the holidays. Between being the face on the outside of the window looking into the portraits of warm happy families and the buzz that accumulated around the country as the empty bottles of wine piled up, it was quickly becoming my least favorite time of year.

  
"You have any plans for tomorrow?" She asked as they set up for the kickoff in the background.

  
"Watching the Broncos lose," I said trying to steer the conversation back in a different direction. 

  
She had apparently caught onto whenever I tried to change a topic.

  
"Are you going to be watching it with anyone?"

  
"Not unless you count Mary Jane."

  
"Well," she said, "Raven's parents are out of the country. If you want, I can get her to come over tomorrow."

  
"No," I assured her. "I am fine. I will survive one holiday by myself." It wasn't the best idea, and I knew it. It was hard enough to maintain sobriety on an average day. Tomorrow that half empty bottle still stashed away in my bag would be calling to me like a long lost lover.

  
"Are you sure?" She asked skeptically. "Raven needs to express her obnoxious cocky attitude every couple of hours or else she reaches critical levels."

"I'm sure," I insisted thinking it was the end of the conversation.

It was not.

It took her five minutes tops before I caved.

My case was sound, but apparently I needed to rethink my argument strategy. Because like usual, I lost. If she was a prosecutor and I a defense attorney, my client would be convicted every time.

After that, we watched the game together until I grew so frustrated that my face found itself trying to hide from the score by leaning into her shoulder.

  
There was cheering. There was yelling. There was even a gasp of surprise as a female referee took a hit from a player being tackled out of bounds. But after watching my team disappoint me like usual and hearing the name Aaron Rodger repeated over and over again until the urge to vomit built up, I let out a defeated sigh.

  
"Tough break," Lexa said laughing at my mopey body language. But by the time her laughter rang through my ears, the results of the game were already in the back of my mind.

When the morning came, Lexa got ready and left for her parents around early afternoon. Raven came over shortly after.

"Yo blondie," Raven said walking into the room and throwing herself on the couch. "Wanna play a game?"

  
My shoulders just shrugged as she plugged in the console and handed me a controller. "It's been awhile," I said as my fingers traced over the buttons trying to regain familiarity.

"Don't worry. I'll go easy on you Griffin."

It was only fifteen minutes later before Raven's ego lost it.

"You cheat! You cheat! You cheat!" Raven said setting the controller down.

  
"That's right," I said as the the shit eating grin passed from her face to mine and my body attempted to do a victory dance while sitting. "I'm the fucking champion."

  
"Yeah, whatever. I think I just got hustled." Raven's face turned into a pout.

  
Mentally, I thanked all of the hours put into playing against my guy friends in high school. Nothing was more satisfying than turning to them with a smirk and proclaiming, "That's right, beaten by a little girl."

Knocking Raven off her pedestal somehow managed to top that.

  
"You lost fair and square," I assured Raven.

  
"It's because I don't have my lucky controller," she said grasping at straws to try and justify her defeat. Something told me she wasn't too used to losing.

  
"Use it next time. It'll just make my victory that much sweeter." I laughed. It'd been awhile since my trash talking skills had been utilized, but I made up for lost time. "It's okay Reyes. Not everyone can be this awesome."

  
"Yeah yeah, it's just beginners luck." Raven sat back up and picked up the controller. "Let's go again."  
  
By the time Lexa's car rolled up in the driveway, we had been playing for hours and the score was heavily in my favor.

  
"Lexa!" Raven shouted to her as the door opened. "Your girlfriend cheats!"

  
"Raven!" I buried my face in my hands. "She'd not my girlfriend," I said low enough for only her to hear.

  
Raven laughed. "Whatever Clarke. You've been living here. You both molest each other with your eyes when you think the other one isn't looking. And I heard about the make out session the yesterday." My face cringed, but not before it turned bright red. Even my ears felt hot.

"Whatever happened to this concept of don't kiss and tell?"

  
"Have you met me?" Raven asked regaining her confident composure. "I've known Lexa for years. Nothing gets passed this steel trap."

  
"What doesn't get passed you?" Lexa asked walking into the room.

  
"Nothing," I said shooting Raven a death glare hoping it would retain her silence before my lips tried to force the most innocent smile I could manage onto them.

The look on her face just grew more suspicious.

"How are the rents?" Raven asked while her gaze stayed focused on the game at hand.

"They're good," Lexa said looking exhausted.

"Was your sister there?" I asked. The temperature of the room suddenly shifted and the two girls next to me grew dead silent. Raven even dared to look away to steal a glance at Lexa. "Sorry," I said backtracking. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Lexus shook her head but the look in her eyes was less than convincing. "Anya wasn't there."

"Oh." It was all that came out. 

"I think I'm going to go for a drive," Lexa said trying to act normal, but I could tell something was wrong.

"Lexa," I said her name, but she was already out of the room.

"What did I say?" I asked turning to Raven but she just shook her head.

"Ask her."

My body fumbled its way back up to search for her. The sound of the front door closing left me scrambling to catch up.

"Lexa," I called out her name again as her car roared to life.

"What Clarke?" She asked rolling the car window down and waiting for me to reach her vehicle. She looked like she was barely holding it together.

"Where are you going?"

"For a drive," she said gripping the wheel a little tighter.

"Well," I said looking around. "Do you want some company?"

She sighed. "Sure, get in."

I thought we were going for a drive, but as we pulled up into a cemetery and the car shut off, I was left to reevaluate what was going on.

She didn't say anything to me. She just started walking along the tombstones. Silently, I attempted to keep pace and follow her as the crutch in my arm tried to snag itself on everything along the way. She just kept trudging on like she was in some sort of trance. Until she finally stopped when she reached a certain grave. A stoic look spread across her features.

 

She bent down until she was resting on her knees silently staring at the same gravestone. My eyes strained to focus until they could make out the name. Anya Woods. And like that, it all made sense.

  
The reason for her sorrow, the distant look in her eyes, even why I was here with her now. The pieces fell into place until the image became clear.

  
"Lexa," I said trying to figure out what to say here. Sorry about your sister. Sorry I brought it up. Sorry we're here now. Nothing came out. She didn't even budge until I made my way into the corner of her sight.

  
"I'm sorry, this isn't like me." She stood up quickly and brushed the debris off her blue jeans. Her usual strong exterior rebuilt itself before my eyes. I was at a loss. My eyes even blinked a few times to make sure it wasn't my vision just lagging.

Then it happened again. My body reacted before the signal could even come from my brain. I surprised us both as my arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into a hug. After the tension in her shoulders dropped, she held me back. I thanked my body.

It was making some of my best decisions lately.

  
We stood there just like that for a little while. There were so many questions brewing in my mind, but now didn't seem like the time.

  
It was strange to be on the other side for a change. I wasn't used to being there for anyone anymore, not even myself. It was nice. Even though my big mouth had unintentionally sparked this trip, I was at least glad my comforting could try and make up for it.

When we pulled apart, there was a single tear hanging on her cheek. My thumb lightly brushed it away.

  
By the time we were back at her place, the earth had almost completely rotated the sun out of view. Before I had a chance to light the cigarette between my fingers that had been patiently waiting for me since this morning, she did away with the distance between us until she was within inches. The air in my lungs ran away. She paused for a moment as my heart finally felt like it succeeded in breaking out of my rib cage. Then her lips found mine, and my mind shut off. The soft feel and the sweet taste, it ran away with my brain.

  
"Thanks for today," she said in a husky voice pulling away while my body remained frozen in place.

  
"Yeah, no problem," I said running my hand through my hair as she walked away.

  
She had to be living by the mantra of always leave them wanting more, because no sane person would ever get tired of watching her walk away.


	12. Following the Laws of Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the comments and feedback. I tried to make this chapter accurate and a little less dark, but I'm unconvinced that I succeed in the latter.

Between physical therapy and trying to muster enough remaining self control, the week was long and drawn out. I didn't know if it was always going to be this hard, but I constantly found myself out of my element. The world that I had grown to know was becoming fainter and fuzzier each time my head swiveled to glance over my shoulder.

Things with Lexa also weren't becoming any clearer. My understanding of where we stood was no better than last week or even when we met. There were several points that had landed us in compromising positions throughout the last week, but the heat of the moment always cooled enough before it went anywhere. Usually, I was the one left trying to catch my breath and slow my heart beat after she pulled away abruptly.

I was confused and way too sober.

As Friday drew closer, my stomach felt like it flipped itself inside out. I tried to play it cool. It shouldn't be a big deal, but my avoidance still made every attempt to talk me out of it. Everywhere I turned it came around the bend with a new excuse. There was no escaping it, no convincing it to leave me alone. As a temporary solution, loud music blared through a set of ear buds attempting to drown out the persistent thoughts.

My fear didn't derive from going to the actual appointment. There was nothing the therapist could tell me about my problems that would surprise me. The pitfalls in my character and life had already become abundantly clear. The best reason my brain could rationalize for not going was the dread of potential failure. There was just something so gratifying about conceding the fight before it even began. If I didn't try, my case for plausible deniability could remain intact.

Eventually, all my time for deliberating was up. Friday was here. The moment of truth came.

As Lexa's car drove up to the building and pulled up to the front door, it took every last ounce of will power still in my possession to get out.

"Don't be so nervous Clarke," she said watching my face go through a range of emotions in a matter of seconds as my body shuffled out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk.

"Nervous, who's nervous?" I joked trying to convince myself.

It wasn't working.

Taking a deep breath and looking at the building for a moment, my mind tried to relinquish control and just let my body make the next decision until I found my way up to the desk.

The back of my neck could feel her eyes follow me until my figure disappeared inside of the building.

The truth was I didn't want Lexa to just become another name on a list of people who had given up on me. She was so damn patient at times that it was almost enigmatic. Her concerns never came off as abrasive or judgmental. She was just always there, even if it meant just being silent and lending me her proximity. She was there when the cravings became too intense, when my frustrations attempted to push everyone away, when the rest of the world kept their distance.

My gratitude couldn't be fully expressed in words, but this was still all so new to me. For some reason I had always been that person people would unburden themselves to. Maybe I just had one of those faces, but friends or even acquaintances knew that no matter what day or time it was, if they needed something, all they had to do was call. But my own problems were always kept private. My mother always told me society wasn't interested in another voice raising complaints and she was always quick to remind me of this when I sought out comforting words from her. She would just flash me an annoyed tired look before reminding me that everyone had problems. After that, when my reserves accumulated too many issues, I collected them, put them in a box, and weighed them down with rocks. In one quick motion, they found themselves being thrown over the railing and plunging deep into the dark water to rest on the sediment.

I just never imagined they would resurface.

The mechanical hands on the clock ticked each agonizing second away. My body fidgeted in the wooden chair fitted with grey fabric as the pen in my hand scratched against the paper and clipboard in my lap. The sound of the woman at the desk coughing in the dead quiet room was like a fire alarm causing me to jump every time air was violently expelled from her lungs.

My eyes occasionally glanced around at the other faces sitting around me patiently waiting for their turn. Neutral expressions and sad eyes focused intently at cellphones, hands, or the window.

As I finished filling out the forms and set the pen down, my back leaned back into the seat trying to just relax. Instead my fingers relentlessly drummed the end of the arm of the chair while my foot nervously tapped against the carpeted floor.

I didn't know what I was doing here. The questionnaire they had given me to fill out was more than enough to kick my flight or fight more into gear, but my body stayed where it was. Back in the trenches of my mind, I knew that this was possibly my last chance to grab onto a branch before I was carried down stream for good. But my goal wasn't to fulfill some need to verbally complain. My desire was to just make my inner monologue shut up long enough to let me come up for air now and again.

"Clarke," a woman looking to be in her forties with short dark hair said my name as she walked around a corner.

  
Hesitantly, I stood up and walked over to her.

  
"Follow me," she said giving me a smile before turning around and leading the way.

  
As we entered her office, her eyes were busy scanning the questionnaire they had given me. "It's nice to meet you Clarke. My name is Indra, I'm a psychiatrist who specializes in Substance Abuse and Cognitive Therapy. Anything you say here will remain confidential unless it poses a risk to the safety of yourself or other. But today will just be more of a consultation," she said sitting down and motioning towards the other chair for me. I just nodded my head and fumbled into another bland chair. "So Clarke tell me a little bit about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" I asked glancing around at the room that was sporting more neutral and soft colors while degrees and certifications hung up on the wall. My eyes were caught by the picture on her desk with her and a presumably her son who looked to be in high school. She seemed nice enough.

"What brings you here today?" She asked in a comforting voice trying to create the aura of a safe space.

I was not fooled.

  
"I promised someone I would," I said trying to soothe my nerves as my hand fidgeted.

  
"Why did they encourage you to come today?"

  
"They think I drink too much," I said reluctantly muttering the words while my head tilted over to the one window in the office zoning out into the blue sky and the white fluffy clouds.

  
Personally, I preferred the gray clouds and the sound of rain drops hitting the pavement. Sunny cloudless days were too bright, too nice. Chaos was almost soothing. It was why the city drew me here in the first place. With all the hustle and bustle and the never ending sirens in the background, it was never silent.

  
"How often do you have a drink?" She asked trying to regain my attention.

  
"Usually everyday," I admitted. She took a moment to record a few things with the pad of paper in her lap.

"How much would you say you drink a night?"

My mouth opened and closed. When I drank, my mind wasn't focused on counting the number of glasses consumed. On average, an empty fifth of whiskey found my floor every three days if I also went out to the bar. But there were days spent held up in my room solely devoted to making an entire bottle disappear over the span of twenty four hours. The look on the cashier's face when I showed up at the liquor store the next day for another was always priceless.

  
"Ten?" I said as my brain came up with a random number that was low, but adequate. She wrote something down. "But the last week I've been completely sober," I said unsure if it was something to be proud or ashamed of.

"How bad was the withdrawal?"

"Nausea, vomiting, sweating, tremors, anxiety, the usual," I said trying to brush it off like it was a normal routine.

"You're lucky it wasn't worse. If chronic heavy drinking goes on for too long, the withdrawal effects can be potentially fatal." I knew that, but hearing it out loud still blew my mind. In the grand scheme, I was a rookie in the sport of alcoholics, a noob. But the ropes were picked up off the ground and firmly stationed in my hands. I was learning quickly. "When did your drinking increase?"

My mind searched for the exact date, the tipping point, but it didn't happen overnight in some seismic catastrophic event or like a superhero garnering their powers through an experiment gone wrong. The journey down this road was incremental, more like dropping a coin off a skyscraper and watching it pick up speed as the laws of motion took over.

"It started increasing about a year ago. I used to just have a few drinks every now and then with friends or family, but then things changed." I drifted off trying to recall the days that grew fuzzier as they approached the current date.

"What caused this change?" My head shook as my gaze found my lap.

I didn't want to think about Finn, let alone talk about him. It was difficult. My memory just wanted to try and hold onto a picture perfect view of the boy I had spent years of my twenties with. At the same time, there was an anger that loomed around the subject that I just couldn't let go of.

"I lost a few people close to me."

"Friends? Family members?"

It didn't seem fair of me to hold onto resentment now that he was gone. But realizing he was a major reason why I was here, my jaw began to clench. I missed my best friend everyday. Romantically through, we mixed about as well as oil and water. Regardless, we promised to always be there for each other.

"Both." My hand balled up into a fist as it pushed into my thigh. I was angry at him for taking this route. I was upset that he hadn't held up his end of the bargain. I was fucking pissed that he left me to live with the image permanently scarred into my brain. It left me seething. "My father passed away from cancer, and my best friend died."

"How did he pass?"

"Shot himself in the head," I said with out flinching. I was too angry to consider how callous it sounded. It made me so livid until the guilt set in, and it always did.

Ultimately, the blame came back to rest on my shoulders like I was the return address of a letter where the original address no longer existed. I was trapped between anger and guilt in a never ending battle that offered no reconciliation for the conflicting views. In the end, it was both of our faults. I was just the last one standing.

"Clarke?"

"Sorry," I said shaking my head and running my hand through my hair.

We talked for awhile long venturing into topics about my current relationships, employment, sleep patterns, and other items from the original paperwork I had filled out. She'd explore the conversations until eventually I'd put up another road block and we'd move on. After awhile we ended up speaking more about what my goals were, what I wanted to achieve.

"To feel normal." It was all I could think to say. It had been so long, my memory could no longer recall what it felt like. But it had to be better than this.

I wasn't sure how long it had been until the time ran out.

"I'm sorry Clarke, but that's all we have time for today," she said standing up. "But I'd like to see you back here next week. In the mean time I want you to start keeping a journal or a log of different times or events that seem to trigger a craving. I also want you to do something you haven't done in awhile before we meet up again," she paused and leaned over to grab a pad off of her desk. "This should help you start sleeping better."

   
I understood the basic concepts of SSRIs, but it still felt wrong. I knew I was broken. The chalk outline of my body was marked on the sidewalk waiting for the rain to wash it away, but taking it meant admitting it out loud to the world.

And that was a hard pill to swallow.

  
"I don't know," I said shaking my head and starring at the piece of paper in her outstretched hand. The hurtle was glaringly obvious. But by this point, I was hoping for maybe the 100 yard dash or maybe even the shot put. Anything was better than these never ending hurtles my feet kept tripping over.

  
"You don't have to take it. Just pick it up and think about it," Indra said. Timidly, my hand took the prescription. "I'll see you next week Clarke."

  
"Yeah, see you next week." Stuffing the item into my pocket, I headed towards the door. The whole thing had been a weird new experience and it left guilt in the pit of my stomach for falling so far in the first place.

I made my way out of the sad building and back outside to find Lexa already waiting for me.

"Hey," she said smiling and opening the car door for me before getting back into the driver's seat. "How'd it go?"

Even though we had spent a ridiculous amount of time together the last couple of weeks, every part of my brain lit up when I saw her. I still hadn't become accustomed to it, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be.

"She says I have the best mental health, like the best she's ever seen," I joked.

"Sure Clarke, and I'm the commander of of several clans," she said sarcastically before smiling and giving me a look that left me too disorientated to conceive another mildly clever thought before she casually changed the radio station.

That look stopped me in my tracks every time. It was almost like she was lifting up the corner of the curtain and peering behind the darkness that clouded my vision for so long. I didn't know what it was about that look, but it made me want to catch a glimpse of the person she saw too.

There was one redeeming part of today, the stitches finally came out. It didn't mean much overall, but it left me one step closer to mobility. My intentions were to give sobriety a real chance, to make a real effort. But just in case that coin was ever tossed off the skyscraper again, I would be able to still run far away before it hit the ground with a devastating thud.

I owed her that much.


	13. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been awhile, but I'll try to keep posting a little more often if people are interested.

I was trying, giving real effort. My routine encompassed all of my stretches physical therapy had given me despite that half of them left my remaining dignity hanging by a delicate thread. It was like being in the center of a crowded room doing yoga for the first time. But since my decision to pack up and leave my home town, my commitment hadn't been given to anything except seeking another temporary solution at the bottom of a glass bottle. Dedication was an old friend that I had neglected to call back in ages.

If my embarrassment in private wasn't enough, Lexa's reflection appeared on the quiet TV screen.

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked as I continued to do my exercises and tried to stop my face from turning a shade of red.

"Don't mind me," Lexa said holding a hand over the shit eating grin spreading across her face as I turned around.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," she said raising her eyebrows at me. "I was going to watch TV, but I think I've found something better instead."

"Hey, this show is admission only," I said as she only held her head higher and her smile grew deeper.

"Then where do I apply or buy a ticket?"

"I don't know if you'll make the cut," I said continuing to stretch but unable to look away from her. "The standards are pretty rigorous."

"I'm up for a challenge," she said winking at me.

My mind searched for another witty comeback, but as usual when I am around her, my mouth opened and no words came out.

I shook my head trying to play it off as usual as she sat down on the couch and pretended not to be watching. But every so often, I'd catch her gaze lingering. There would be no complaints coming from me though.

There was just something about her, about this. She saw through the deflective humor and false bravado always able to leave me speechless.

I couldn't look at her without losing my breath, couldn't be near her without the risk of my heart skipping beats. Any every time she flashed me her trademark smile, my feet left the ground. She was the only person that made me want to be the better version of myself.

It was becoming obvious, glaringly so even. As much as I ached to deny it, the line between infatuation and something else was deteriorating. It could no longer be denied underneath the everyday thoughts and a haze of cigarette smoke.

Even by my own definition, I was falling for her. I was falling hard too, and it absolutely terrified me.

I had made a promise to myself after Finn to never let this happen again, to never need anything or anyone. But the stupid cliche butterflies that collected in my stomach wouldn't go away. The cheesy sappy songs that played through my head wouldn't stop. It was like being stuck in a movie, but I wasn't sure I could play the part. Even if this feeling was reciprocated, this truth could never see the light of day.

I could never be the person she deserved. My life was nothing more than a ten point list of destruction, ten steps on how to throw away potential, ten reasons I was a fuck up, ten ways I would inevitably disappoint her.

So, I did what I did best and held onto my secrets hoping that the closet filling up with skeletons still had enough space for one more.

\----

As the days went by and we spent more and more time together, it was only growing worse. It had reached a point where she took up more space in my thoughts than the urge to reach a familiar state of inebriation. The name Jack Daniels had been replaced with a label that read Lexa Woods, and she was quickly becoming my favorite brand.

The yellow taxi that dropped me off in the park had long since pulled away, leaving me on the bench. I was trying to clear my mind from the night before and fulfill my assignment before my next appointment as the piece of paper with the prescription on it burned a hole in my pocket.

The people that passed by on the sidewalk were like zombies, each glued to their phones, too distracted to notice the world that was spinning around them. Children and their wide eyes held onto parent's hands trying to tether themselves to something they understood, someone they had faith in. Cars passed by driving down the same road and routes that they have traveled hundreds of times prior to this. The redundancy of life didn't seem to bother them. I wasn't sure it even gave them pause.

Times like these typically sparked doubt. But today felt different. The crisp air that found its way into my lungs was invigorating. The writing utensil between my fingers felt familiar, comforting.

New lines and shading appeared onto the notebook hoping to find the beauty in imperfection, the light that broke through the plane of darkness, even if for only a short duration.

The cigarette resting between my lips plumed smoke up into the atmosphere as creases formed on my forehead through every stroke and every line drawn.

  
The images that filled up my notebook had become only pictures of haunted faces, broken dreams. But my due diligence was trying to do something different, something I hadn't done in awhile. So, I went somewhere new, decided to draw something else.

It felt awkward at first, but after the initial hesitation settled, it was almost freeing. The page came alive with strangers still filled with hope, oblivious to the deep cracks that sprouted up everywhere, many that had swallowed me into their caverns plenty of times before this. But the strangers kept their balance, navigating through the hazardous channels like it was just as familiar as the back of their hands.

  
Envy couldn't help but form. Normalcy always came off as so enticing when life went awry.

Ear buds created a thick layer of isolation around me, blocking out the rest of society. It left my mind free to trace over the previous night and to try to flush out the meaning behind it.

Last night had woken me up again with another reoccurring nightmare. It was worse than usual. This time, when my feet reached the door of his apartment building, the loud bang of the gun shot went off. And as I rushed through the open door, there he was on the floor like he was waiting for me, for just this moment. His sad eyes seemed fixated on me as his lungs released his final breath into the empty room.

That look had burned into my brain like starring at the sun after an eclipse.

The dream wasn't accurate, but it was just as jarring, just as damning.

I must have become animated in my sleep though, because this time when my eyes opened, green eyes were starring back at me.

  
"Clarke," she said as I came to, to find sweat covering me and warms fingers brushing hair out of my face.

"Sorry," was all I could push out of my mouth as my hand ran through my hair. If my night terrors had ever woken her up before this, she never let on. But those pair of sad brown eyes in my nightmares were immediately replaced with a soft look of compassion resonating through green orbs.

  
She sat on the edge of the couch fully awake now.

  
"Are you okay?"

  
"I'm fine," I said even though the words came out stammered. "Did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about it," she said giving me a half smile but refusing to break eye contact. She always made me feel so transparent. I may as well have been a sheet of glass. Unfortunately for me though, it was one sided.

Finding myself embarrassed for letting her witness one of my night terrors, I attempted to collect myself. She seemed more worried than freaked out, but my greed that had been trying to hold onto her company for as long as possible had been trying to avoid exactly this.

  
"I need to shower," I said standing up and pulling away from the warm aura that followed her. She just nodded her head.

When the water began to cascade and the sweat washed away, I was surprised to still find the taste of salt running down my face. It took a moment to realize there were tears forming in my eyes. My jaw tensed and my fists clenched trying to combat the emotional response, but those sad eyes were everywhere. It wasn't like me to let this happen, to let this reaction slip out, but every nightmare left me with doubts and questions. What if I never left him? What if I had been there to stop it? How did I not see this coming? And the question that screamed the loudest, was this my fault?

It took me awhile, but I finally got it together.

Even though I was in there until the hot water ran out and the panic subsided, she was still sitting out there patiently waiting for me.

  
"Better?" She asked resting her cheek on her hand.

  
"Sure, yeah," I said forcing a smile and trying to fumble with the sling in my hand.

  
I hadn't even her noticed her closing the distance until she was grabbing the item and gently helping me strap it back on.

"Thanks." I hated feeling helpless, but if there was any assistance I would accept, it would always be hers.

  
"Never a problem."

  
"You don't have to stay up. I'm fine." I tried to assure her knowing she had to be up in a few hours.

  
"Clarke I," she paused and bit her lip before she seemed to change her mind.

"Seriously Lexa," I said shrugging. "I'm fine."

She looked at the couch and then back at me for a moment. "Come on," she said grabbing my hand and leading me into her bedroom.

It wasn't the first time I had been in her room, but every time before this she had offered me a more comfortable place to dose off, my better judgement had declined with some mumbled response. The last thing I wanted to showcase were my panicked dreams, but after what she just witnessed, it wouldn't make a difference.

The room looked different in the dark as shadows and silhouettes filled up the walls, but the scent of her perfume and shampoo filled up the space.

"I promise I won't bite," she said letting out a small laugh.

"Well you've got me in your bed with out alcohol. I think you could talk me into just about anything," I joked back, but the uncertainty in my voice was evident.

Her head shook and I knew that even if it wasn't observable, she was smiling at me. 

With that, she slipped under the covers and patted the sheets next to her.

I didn't bother to argue. There was no strength left to resist.

Slowly, my fingers pried back the comforter and my body settled underneath next to her. It wasn't more than a moment after I settled on my side before a pair of arms found their way around my waist.

Breath, my brain tried to remind my lungs.

"Is this okay?" She asked as hot breath danced across my skin.

"Yeah."

Her embrace tightened until she succeeded in pulling me into her. There was nothing I could have wanted more than just to lay there and soak in the moment. My body relaxed muscles that had been clenched for what felt like months.

I didn't expect my eyelids to close so quickly. I never expected to sleep so long either, but the next thing I knew, it was early afternoon and the sheets next to me had grown cold from her vacating for work hours ago.

A smirk couldn't help but find my face as my sketch book found it's way under my arm and the cab pulled up to bring me back to the outside world for a few hours.

I didn't know it then, but I had fallen asleep so fast, I missed the words she whispered into my ear.


End file.
